Red vs Blue: The Spartan Rejects
by Nuh
Summary: AU fic. The Reds & Blues left their destroyed outpost to join Master Chief and Earth's forces to help finish the fight and save Tex and Junior from the evil AI O'Malley. However, things are not what they appear to be...
1. Realization

RvB/Halo. The Reds and Blues leave their destroyed outpost to join Master Chief and the rest of Earth's forces to help finish the fight. During the campaign, they find out the true purpose of Blood Gulch and the conspiracy behind it all and more.

Disclaimer: Halo and Red vs. Blue are owned by Bungie/Microsoft and Roosterteeth respectively.

A/N: This fic is based loosely on the Halo 3 game and the machinima Red vs. Blue. Not every written event follows strictly to Halo 3 or Red vs. Blue's original plots. If a character starts to stray too far from canon, however please tell me and I'll see if a change is needed. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

…And hope to heaven all of the RvB guys will survive this war.

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects**  
_Episode 1: Realization_

It was night and two figures clad in orange and maroon armor stood watch on top of the Red Base's roof.

"Hey."

"M'yeah?"

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

**FWUMP.**

"Grif…?"

"…Zzz."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"What are they doing?"

"Say that one more time, Tucker, and I swear…you'll never have kids again."

Church and Tucker stood out on one of the scattered ridges of Blood Gulch overlooking the Red Base. _Why? WHY am I still here?_ Were one of the many questions running through the Blue leader's mind as he peered through his sniper scope at the ever-present enemy base. _Dammit. If only I had been on that ship when it blew up. Anything's better than being stuck in this fucking canyon._

And, as if on cue, a tremor erupted beneath their feet. "What the f—?" Church dropped his gaze from the scope and glanced about in confusion. "Hey, what's _that_?" Tucker gazed up at the night sky.

Church never thought he'd see a more glorious sight. A Pelican came swooping in and their radios instantly buzzed in their ears, **"This is Echo 316. Prepare fer immediate dustoff. Get yer arses onboard, now!"**

The Red and Blue civil war has been and always would be a part engrained their memory. However, the prejudice and bitter rivalry between the two would soon to come to an end.

"Pilot, what the Sam hell's goin' on?" Sarge demanded, his hand gripping the pilot's seat to support himself as the Pelican rose in the air. The Sarge's ignorance seemed to surprise the Flight Officer, "Ya don't know? That whole ring's gonna be slag in a few minutes."

The whole rescued crew cried out in shock, "WHAT?"

Grif was the first to recover, "You mean that hellhole's gonna go up? Excellent."

Caboose, on the other hand, right away came to tears and sniffed, "W-What? But we didn't even get to say goodbye!" He promptly spun around in his seat to look out of the tiny window behind him, waving at the quickly shrinking plot of land, "Goodbye, Blood Gulch! You were the closest thing to home for me! I'll miss you! Goodbye!"

Church was about to say something along the lines of "Shut up and sit down" but, for some odd reason, couldn't bring the words to his mouth.

He hated Blood Gulch. Day by day, it's just spying on the Reds, fighting with the Reds, or fighting amongst his own fellow Blues. In fact, it had gotten so bad that he was certain he would linger in this purgatory for all eternity and no one back at home would care. Yet, after years of eking out a less-than-decent living and going through endless misadventures in that pit, one couldn't help but grow attached to it…

_Pfft. Yeah, right_, he snorted inwardly and turned his eyes to floor. A random afterthought then entered his mind and he furrowed his eyebrows. _Wait a minute…Why would our outpost suddenly blow up for no reason? Something's not right…_

"Damn! Lookit that!" all of the other Reds and Blues clustered up at the windows as a violent quake shook the craft. Shaking him out of his reverie, Church curiously gazed out a porthole. In the distance, a crumbling Halo severed in two; a bright, almost cleansing light emanated from an inaudible explosion.

"Aww. No 'boom'? That sucks. Boooo," Grif complained.

Simmons remarked in an obvious tone, "Of course there's no 'boom', dumbass. You're not supposed to hear anything in space."

Grif said sheepishly, "Oh, uh…yeah."

Sarge then directed his attention on both teams, "Well. Now that that's over…" Without warning, he aimed his shotgun at Church, "Surrender, Blues, or feel the wrath of Kenny!" Instantly, each teams' soldier held their adversary at gun point. Donut protectively hugged the Red Team flag to his chest and Caboose followed suit with his own. The pilot's voice carried from the cockpit, "Hey! What tha hell's goin' on back dere?"

"…'Kenny'? You named your shotgun _Kenny_?" Tucker said incredulously.

Sarge replied, a hint of attitude in his voice, "You wanna make somethin' out of it?" He threateningly switched his aim to Tucker while Simmons took Sarge's place on Church. Tucker gulped meekly, "No."

A lieutenant then emerged from the copilot's seat and approached them, "What's the matter, gentlemen?"

Doc whispered to the noncom, "Shh. It's a standoff."

The lieutenant looked at him questioningly, "Standoff?"

The purple medic nodded fervently, "Yes, sir. Both teams have been at it for years. Now, since their bases are destroyed, new grounds must be claimed."

Simultaneously, Sarge and Church yelled, "Dibs!"

"I said it first!"

"Nuh-uh. It was a tie."

"Erm…Fine. Double dibs!"

"There is no double dibs, you old fart."

"There is now!"

"Hey!" the lieutenant intervened, stepping between the two leaders. "Stand down. Stand down!" he forcefully repeated the order when neither side complied. When the Reds and Blues lowered their weapons, the lieutenant spoke, "Now I don't know what your orders were, but apparently there has been a mistake. We're all on the same side. Our only enemy is the Covenant."

Then Sister started giggling, "What a retard. 'Same side'? That's like the most dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Grif added, "Yeah! I mean, the Red and Blue Teams are like mortal enemies, man."

The lieutenant cocked an eyebrow, "Red and Blue? What are you talking about, Private? Neither such teams exist. Least, not in the records."

At this startling news, Church was mixed between a sense of confusion and alarm. "What do you mean our teams don't exist? Of course, they exist! Blue Command dropped us in Blood Gulch to conquer their base!" he motioned towards the Reds, nearing the point of yelling, "Are you telling me those orders were fake?"

The lieutenant eyed him strangely, feeling quite convinced that these men need help, "Look. There are no Red or Blue Teams, much less any Command you name. We only follow one Command and that's the UNSC."

For a brief moment, all was quiet. Until the silence was broken after Sarge fainted and collapsed on the floor. As Donut rushed to assist his fallen superior, Tucker breathed in a hushed whisper, "I can't believe it. I was right. The Reds and Blues are the same!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	2. Master Chief

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects**  
_Episode 2: Master Chief_

_**2 MONTHS LATER…**_

"_Have they figured it out yet?"_

"_Of course not. With their level of intelligence, it's a miracle they even survived in that canyon. No, I don't think there's anymore need for concern. The project is officially over."_

"_Yes, but…if she were to tell them—"_

"_She won't. I assure you, there is nothing to fear."_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: REPUBLIC OF KENYA, AFRICA**

**: UNDERGROUND UNSC BASE**

A Marine-outfitted Grif slouched against one of the huge hall's partitions. His composure presents him as one who stresses very little: listening to an iPod (version 47.9), one hand stuffed deep in his pocket, the other idly twirling a cigarette between his fingers. Nodding his head a little to the music, he sucked on the roll of tobacco and puffed out several smoke rings.

"Those things are gonna kill you one day," Simmons walked over with two protein bars, offering one to the orange Spartan.

"Not if I starve to death first," Grif flicked a few ashes on the ground and accepted the snack, "So what did they say?"

Simmons chewed and swallowed his food and said casually, "Still a little funny in the head and trigger-happy, but, other than that, Sarge'll probably be out of rehab in a couple weeks."

Grif sighed disappointedly, dropping the finished cig on the ground and extinguishing it with the sole of his shoe, "Shame. I was hoping for at least a year."

"Thank God _we_ got outta there early," Simmons said, a bit relieved.

"Yeah…But that shrink chick was pretty hot, though. I should've faked insanity and stayed there," Grif smiled wistfully while unwrapping his bar.

Simmons scowled at his friend's laziness, "I thought you said you signed up to fight aliens. It's been two days since we got here, we hadn't even fought _one_, and you're already thinking about home?"

Grif retorted defensively, pulling out a bottle of water from his pack, "Look, all the fighting is going on in the jungle. I'm not gonna go running around in dense foliage and get a cap in my ass because Caboose can't tell who's the enemy."

Just then, Donut came running up to them, panting and wheezing, "H…He…He's here…!"

Simmons blinked, "Who's here?"

Donut snatched a water bottle out of Grif's hand ("Hey!" – Grif) and downed half of it, wiping his mouth before answering, "You know! Him! The Chief!"

Grif almost choked on his bar while Simmons nearly shot his own foot with his gun again.

"You're messin' with us, right?" Simmons finally said. When Donut shook his head, Simmons looked down at his attire and started dusting off crumbs and dirt. That's when the Master Chief and Sergeant Major Johnson entered the hall. All three privates hopped to their feet and saluted.

The Chief gave them a curt acknowledging nod and then faced Commander Keyes. As the commander and the new arrivals walked away and discussed the current situation, Grif murmured to the other two, "That was him? Damn, he's tall!"

Donut agreed, "Yeah, I didn't know he was black either!"

Simmons and Grif stared at him like he's an idiot, "…"

In the base's Command Center, Lord Hood, Keyes, Johnson, and Master Chief were putting together a plan of offense against the High Prophet of Truth's army when a commotion arose. The lights flickered. The sound of machinery powering down and the yells of military personnel reverberated throughout the base.

"What's happening?" Johnson questioned a tech.

He replied, "It's the Covenant! They're jamming our communications network!" At that moment, the image on the main computer screen disappeared and was replaced with Truth's face.

"**You are, all of you, vermin. Cowering in the dirt thinking…what? That you might escape the coming fire? No. Your world will burn until its surface is but glass!"**

As the prophet's voice carried on, a thunderous rumbling can be heard. The Marines darted their eyes about the walls nervously. Then someone shouted, "Covenant Loyalists! They're attacking the base!"

Keyes turned to the Chief and Johnson, "Defend the base."

Master Chief switched the safety off his MA5C, made a gruff, "Right," and moved for one of the halls.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"The blast doors! Get to the blast doors!" Marines dashed to the entrance, some huddling behind anything that provides good cover. Then the doors blew out with a **KABLAM**! Church ducked behind a Warthog just as a piece of metallic debris brushed over his head, "Holy shit!"

Among the chaos, Johnson's command echoed loudly, "Take 'em out!"

Church peered over the Warthog's hood and swallowed when he saw a line of Brutes marching over the threshold. One spotted him and went for his direction. Church shot four rounds at the incoming Brute, each missing the target by a mile. Panicking, Church fumbled to reload his weapon, "Shit! Oh, damn whoever fucked the scopes on this thing!"

Unfortunately, the Brute had already reached his position, grabbed the bottom edge of the Warthog and flipped it to the side, and glowered down at the terror-stricken private. Flourishing an energy sword, the Brute pulled the weapon back, preparing to strike, and drew a sharp, toothy grin, "Die, human."

Right when the Brute was about thrust the sword into Church, several shots pierced the alien's torso. The Brute roared in pain and wheeled around just in time to receive a bullet to the forehead.

Still sitting ungracefully on his bottom, Church stared at the fallen body, too stunned to move. A long, broad shadow loomed over him and Church glanced up to see his savior. "Are you all right?" Master Chief held out a hand.

Church took it and hauled himself onto his feet, "Uhh, yeah."

Not missing a beat, the Chief inquired, "Where's the armory?"

"Err, I think it's this way."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Grif and Simmons leaned up against a few barrels as a barrage of energy pulse shots fired along the sides. Grif gritted his teeth, "Aw, this blows! Man, it's times like this I wish we were wearing our armor again."

Simmons then remembered, "Our armor! It's in the armory! If we can just get there—" A plasma grenade exploded nearby, shaking up both privates. "And when I mean 'we', I mean 'you first'," Simmons nudged Grif, who noticed something out of the corner of his eye, "Hey, look! It's the Chief!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

All opposition melted away as the Chief and some Marines combed the area. Church called out to his former Blue comrade, who was standing near a closed door, "Tucker!"

"Church! Hey, you're not dead yet!"

Church glared at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tucker spoke bluntly, "Well I figured that, since you're such a bad shot, you'd be dead by the first wave."

"Fuck you, Tucker."

"Stick to our objective, Private. Where's the armory? The men are low on ammo," Master Chief interrupted the feud. Tucker thumbed at the door behind him, "What, you mean that armory?"

Still feeling a bit snappish from Tucker's snide comment, Church said sarcastically, "No, Tucker, the other armory, the one that's stuffed up your butthole. Yes, that armory!"

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Master Chief moved past them and pressed the door's switch. Nothing happened.

"It's locked," he frowned.

Tucker knocked on the door, "Hey, open up!"

Doc's voice can be heard on the other side, "Password please!"

"You gotta be kidding me! What password?"

"The password so we don't open the door for Brutes."

"Do I sound like a Brute to you?"

"Well you could be held prisoner by Brutes."

"If I was held prisoner by Brutes and knew the password, then the Brutes could just force me to tell you the password and you'd open the door for them."

"…"

"…"

"Okay, well now I'm definitely not going to open the door."

"Well we need ammo!"

"Well why don't you ask your Brute buddies then?"

"All right, this is ridiculous. Get outta of the way," Master Chief pushed Tucker aside and directed his assault rifle at the door's lock and shot it out. Doc gasped as the door slid open to reveal the dominating 7-foot Spartan. Master Chief walked by the shocked doctor, scooped up some weapons, ammo, and such, and headed out the door without another word.

Grif and Simmons then popped up behind Church and Tucker. "Hey, Doc! Where's our armor? You still have it?" Grif shouted over the battle noises in the background.

Doc blinked and shook himself back into reality, "Um, yeah, it's over there." He nodded at an open locker. Perfectly lined up beside each other, a rainbow of various colored Spartan armor greeted their eyes. "Caboose and Donut swung by and picked up theirs not long ago," Doc gestured at a couple of vacant spots in the line.

"What? Caboose? Aw, man, I bet he's getting murdered right now. C'mon, Tucker, we'd better hurry and find him," Church hurriedly climbed into his cobalt armor and went for the door.

Tucker looked surprised as he slipped on his helmet, "But I thought you hated Caboose."

Church hastily replied, "I do, but he owes me money. C'mon!"

Both Blues rushed outside while Grif and Simmons gingerly pulled on their armor. "Hey, is there any consequence if Donut dies?" Simmons asked Grif.

"None that I can think of," the other answered indifferently. Suddenly, their radios buzzed.

"**This is Keyes. I have planted a bomb in the operating room. Everyone get to the garage ASAP."**

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"BOMB? Oh my God! We're all gonna die! I'm too beautiful to die! Noooooo!" Donut freaked, evidently missing the last part of the message, and ran around in circles.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Church and Tucker swept along the hall and surveyed the area for their missing comrade. "There he is!" Tucker spotted a blue figure in the distance running and jumping about, trying to avoid the blasts of a Wraith.

"I am Caboose, the vehicle destroyer!" Caboose hollered as he pounced on top of the Wraith. Brandishing a rocket launcher, he took aim at the Wraith's front and fired. **BAKOOM!**

"_Caboose_!" Church and Tucker cried in unison. The Covenant tank puffed up a cloud of fire and slightly hopped off the ground before landing in a blackened crater. Caboose was nowhere to be seen.

The Blues stood rooted in their spot, considering the possibility that dumb ol' Caboose may be just hiding, trying to play a prank on them or probably so punch-drunk from the explosion that he's passed out somewhere. But as the seconds ticked by and finding no signs of any blue armored body, they became more and more certain that their comrade could be dead.

At last, Church breathed, shocked at the sudden loss of his fellow Blue, "…I can't believe it…he's dead…And the son of a bitch still owes me 10 bucks too."

Unexpectedly, a charred Caboose popped up behind them, "Churrrrch! Tuckerrrr! Buddiessss!"

The cobalt and aqua soldiers spun around in surprise, "Caboose?"

Church stuttered, "H-How…? I-I-I don't…Y-You're alive?"

Caboose bobbed his head dizzily, his speech slurred, "Uhh, yep, uh, when I fired that rocket-thingy, I was kinda knocked into that there teleporter and ended up here and now I'm all sorrrre…" And with that, the blue soldier fell forward and passed out on his face.

Tucker then looked up at Church, "We'd better get to the garage."

The Blue leader nodded, "Right. Get his arm…" He pulled Caboose's left arm over his shoulder while Tucker got his right and the three trudged as fast as they could to the safety zone.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Simmons put his all into defending those heading to the garage. Manning a heavy machine gun, he showered the enemy with a rain of bullets. "Suck it, Blue! I mean, Brute! Dammit! Suck it, Blue! I mean, Brute! Shit, not again!" he cursed at the mind-engrained habit.

In the meantime, Grif was attempting to catch the panicking Donut, who was just outside of the safety of the garage.

"Stop running around, you idiot!" Grif panted tiredly and swiped at him, feeling quite annoyed at this point, but Donut was beside himself.

"OH, SARGE! WHERE ARE YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU? WHY DID YOU ABANDON US? WHY?"

After a few more seconds of this, Grif managed to whap Donut's left temple and knock him out. Simmons then came in, "I think that's all of them. Wait a sec. Where's those Blue guys? Where's the Chief?"

Answering one of his questions, Master Chief came running towards them, small scattered explosions blasting off behind him. Following him were a pack of Jackals and Grunts. Still moving, he pivoted about on his heel, pumped iron into both Jackals, and threw a frag grenade at the nearby Grunts. Revolving back to face the garage, he rolled across the ground, landed crouched on his feet, and slid home beside Grif and Simmons just before the frag grenade detonated in his place and took out the Grunts.

"That was an excellent performance, Chief," Simmons said in a flattering tone.

Grif muttered flatly, "Kissass."

Master Chief then stood up and looked at them. Evidently, something about them surprised him because he did a double take at their armor.

"You…You're Spartans?" he spoke in an unsure tone, utterly taken aback.

"Huh?" Grif blinked. Simmons's cry, though, brought their attention to the hall, "Hey!"

Half dragging, half walking-fast, Church and Tucker staggered toward the garage. On their HUDs, they can see the bomb's timer ticking, 10 seconds 'til detonation. Unfortunately, Caboose was weighing them down.

"Aw, screw it!" Church and Tucker chucked Caboose at the garage's entrance and broke out into a sprint. Caboose's body zipped through the air and collided into Grif and Simmons, "Oof!" Right at the one second mark, Church and Tucker jumped through the doorway and the garage doors automatically slammed shut.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	3. The Ghost of Tsavo Highway

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects**  
_Episode 3: The Ghost of Tsavo Highway_

**: AFRICAN AIRSPACE**

**: COVENANT DROPSHIP _SHRINE OF REPENTANCE_**

Big and burly Jiralhanae Chieftain Cerberus anxiously flexed his fists in the lift. Although the _Shrine of Repentance_ displays a face of breathtaking majesty and tranquility, Cerberus was feeling the complete opposite. He hadn't slept for twenty three cycles and was total wreck due to battle-worn exhaustion. Not only that, a tight knot has been forming in his stomach since the time he was given his task.

The uncertainty of how the Prophet would receive the bad news has bugged him for the last three hours since the previous battle on Earth. For all he knows, this moment could very well be his last. Thoughts of death and torture crossed his mind, but, with much effort, he pushed them away as he approached the holographic image of the High Prophet of Truth. Now is the time to report.

"What news?" Truth drawled when Cerberus performed the routine-respective bow.

The Brute forced himself to gaze up at the Prophet and informed, "It appears the Demon has enlisted more of his kind to aid in the resistance."

Truth was already beginning to dislike what he's hearing, "More? I was told the Demon was the last of his kind."

Cerberus bowed his head once more and said in a hesitant voice, "Apparently we were mistaken. We apologize for our failure, Noble Hierarch."

Truth narrowed his eyes at the Brute for a while, then mysteriously smiled as if all was forgiven, "Under usual circumstances, I would have your head, Brute. But, fortunately for you, I've thought of another use for you." Cerberus shifted his weight uneasily._ This can't be good…_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: TSAVO HIGHWAY, KENYA**

After the little skirmish in the underground base, the UNSC forces are currently moving out to the Ark in Voi. Riding together on some Troop Transport Warthogs (while listening to the Red Team's Tejano music on the radio), Master Chief and the Red and Blues make a path through the Tsavo Highway. Every once in a while they would encounter blockades of Covenant Loyalists occupying the highway. Doc wiped the sand and grime coating his visor, "Whoo! That last sandstorm was a killer. Right, guys? Oh." He turned around to see all the Red and Blues in the back buried in sand.

Later, night has fallen and the humans have decided to stop and camp out among some ruins. The Reds and Blues had gathered around the comforting warmth of the campfire, a little ways from the Marines's group. "Great. I gonna be finding sand and shit in weird places for a month!" Church grumbled as he settled on a large rock and dumped a heap of sand out of his helmet.

Sitting on a mesa not far from the group, Master Chief quietly watched the group of multicolored Spartans, constant nagging thoughts going on and on in his head. _I know each and every soldier on the Spartan-II project and I don't recall seeing __**any**__ of these guys during training! Could they be Spartan-IIIs? No, they wear the same armor as mine. Then who…? Uhh…_ Master Chief sweatdropped as he witnessed an enraged Church grappling Donut in a headlock.

"Oww! I _accidentally_ brushed my hand against your butt! Ouch!"

"Hey, Grif, isn't your sister stationed here?" Simmons queried.

Comfortably snuggled in a military-issue blanket, Grif responded sleepily, "Nah. She's gonna meet up with us at Voi…" And he was fast asleep, snoring like a big fat angel.

Then, Doc gasped, "Oh, you know what? I heard the soldiers said there's a ghost on this highway."

Tucker scoffed, thumbing at the cobalt Spartan, "Yeah. Church."

Doc shook his head, "No, no. _This_ ghost, they think, is a girl. A girl in black Spartan armor!"

At this, Church pricked up his ears, freeing Donut from his death grip, "Black?"

Simmons pursed his lips, "That doesn't make sense. Ghosts are supposed to be white."

Doc countered again, "Nuh-uh. Not all ghosts. Ever heard of shadow people? They're black ghosts, though not any different from white ones."

Church waved a hand impatiently, "Who cares what kind of ghost she is! Do you think they're talking about Tex?"

Donut piped up, "But why would Tex follow us all the way out here?"

Caboose suggested, "Maybe she hates us so much for not saving her body from that explosion that she wants to haunt us and kill us all." All of them sat there in a nervous silence, realizing that it could be true since Tex is such a tough, mean girl. Then, out of the blue, a shot was fired.

"Oh God! It's Tex! Run for your life!" the Reds and Blues, except the still-sleeping Grif, flipped out and dove for cover.

The Marines, however, scrambled for their weapons and got to their feet, yelling, wondering where the shot came from. Master Chief held his gun at the ready and swiftly scanned the plateaus and boulders. Then the motion-detector in his HUD showed an unfriendly red dot moving closer to Grif. "!" Master Chief aimed at a pair disembodied footprints near Grif's sleeping form and fired three rounds. One missed, but the other two punctured some kind of golden colored shield. A shield similar to his own.

The golden shield flickered and revealed the invisible enemy. "Tex?" Church cried.

Lo and behold, the infamous freelancer Allison "Tex" stood frozen in her tracks, one unarmed hand hovering over Grif, who stirred, "Muh…? Wha's goin' on?...Oh, crap!" The orange soldier tried to get up but wound up tangling himself in his blanket, giving the impression of a bouncing walrus in the sand. But Tex was no longer interested in the Red. She leapt over the bundled Grif and raced for the plateaus. Several shots from the Marines followed after her but none reached her. She was gone.

Master Chief was about to go after her, but Church blocked his path, "Stop!"

Slightly frustrated at the private for letting their quarry get away, the Chief demanded, "What's the meaning of this, Private?"

Church stammered, now recalling how tall the Chief actually was, "S-She's not an enemy, sir. She's…" Master Chief's faceless mask bored into Church's, clearly waiting for an explanation, "…?"

He sighed resignedly, "She's my ex-girlfriend."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The explanation, the whole story of their time in Blood Gulch, was not something Master Chief expected. In fact, the story was so unbelievably ridiculous that he sat rooted in his seat, entirely dumbfounded, and said to Church:

"…So let me get this straight. You're a ghost in a robot body who has a dead ex-girlfriend, who supposedly was caught in an explosion with two AIs, a Covenant soldier, and Tucker's baby alien, which was caused by a talking bomb…" He rubbed what would have been his temples, "This doesn't seem physically possible."

Tucker reassured, "Don't worry, man. You're not the only one who felt that way."

This didn't make Master Chief feel any better, "And you were _pregnant_."

The aqua-colored Spartan shrugged, "Eh, shit happens."

The Chief exhaled, then returned to his more hardened façade, "All right. Now, tell me this…Are you guys Spartans?" The Red and Blues traded glances.

Doc said thoughtfully, "Umm, well, I guess we are. I mean, we have the same armor as you…"

Master Chief pressed, "Why haven't I seen you before? Are you part of the Spartan-II Project?"

Simmons blinked, "Project? I don't remember those guys telling me about any project."

The Chief leaned forward with interest, "What guys?"

Caboose spoke vaguely, "Oh, you know, the guys in white and black suits and have that O-N-I symbol thingy—"

"What _did_ they tell you?"

Donut chipped in, "Well, they said we could join the army if we wear this armor…"

Church grouched, "Yeah, and then they stuffed us in that fucking canyon and—"

Grif overlapped, "I thought I was gonna fight some aliens, but thanks to you…"

All of the Reds and Blues said in unison, "The whole Covenant Armada blew up and we got stuck fighting each other."

Master Chief held up his hands and stepped back a little nervously, "…"

Church was the first to speak, "Why are we even talking to you?" The others concurred, "Yeah. Yeah. Thanks a lot, pal." And they all turned around and forcibly ignored the Chief.

Master Chief glimpsed back and forth from each person, looking apologetic. "I…I'm sorry, I…didn't know defeating the enemy could cause this stuff to happen. But…" he then became suspiciously conscious of another factor, "It's not ONI's job to enlist recruits. Why did you go to them?"

Caboose raised a finger, "Actually, they came to _me_."

"Yeah, same here," Donut said pensively. A chorus of similar testimonies rose from each Spartan.

Grif shared an anecdote, "I stood in line to join the Marines, then some chick pulled me out to the side and said I can join without doing too much work."

"Geez, you are so fucking lazy…AND gullible," Simmons frowned boringly.

The orange soldier retorted, "And what did they say to you? That if you join, you can suck up to any friggin'—"

"Enough!" Master Chief intervened. He observed the confused expressions on both teams and stated, "I don't know what ONI is up to, but until we can support our suspicion, this war comes first…Not for nothing, but your lives seems much more screwed than mine."

Church looked unimpressed, "No shit."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"_She's made contact and have eluded our extermination squad…With all due respect, ma'am, but I thought you said 'there is nothing to fear'."_

"_I did. If it comes to it and Tex does reveal our intentions, then we'll just have to deal with them directly. Now, I wish not to discuss this matter any further. How is the specimen…?"_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	4. Voi, where the path divides

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 4: Voi, where the path divides_

**: VOI, KENYA**

**: INDUSTRIAL ZONE**

Caboose and Donut ran alongside each other, splashing through muddy puddles and dodging heavy fire in an effort to gain a flanking position beside the Anti-Aircraft Wraith. At the same time, Tucker and Simmons used a Warthog to distract the Wraith. Simmons contacted over his radio, "Donut, you guys in position yet?"

Settling on a warehouse rooftop, Caboose and Donut knelt behind the peak and pulled up two M41s. Donut hollered back, "Roger, in position and ready."

Caboose looked at him funny, "I thought his name was Simmons."

Before Donut could answer, Tucker's voice interrupted them, "Fire!" Caboose and Donut fired their rocket launchers and the Wraith was blasted to smithereens. The leftover shrapnel, though, almost burned some nearby Marines.

"Sorry!" the blue and pink Spartans meeped as a cloud of curse words were flung at them.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Meanwhile, Church and Grif were combing the battlefield, trying to shoot any Covenant infantry in sight. Church shouted over the noise of their weapons, "Where is she?"

Grif darted his eyes from side to side, surveying the vicinity for any yellow colored armor. Finally, he spotted her, "There!"

Beneath a metallic overhanging, Sister was backing up as she futilely fired shot after shot at an approaching Hunter. Nearby on the ground was another dead Hunter that she must have already claimed. Standing on a level above, Grif threw two plasma grenades down on the Hunter, "Look out below!" Sister saw this and jumped behind a huge metal slab for cover. The Hunter, upon finding the glowing orbs attached to the back of his neck, hastily scraped to pull them off but was too late. Grif was rewarded with a satisfying double blast and the alien popped in the air and flew into a bunch of propane tanks, which exploded on impact.

"Whoo! That was hot!" Sister emerged from the metal slab and greeted her brother, "Hey, bro, what's up?"

Grif leapt off the landing to talk to her, "Sister, what are you doing? You're colorblind! How can you be fighting?"

She spoke as if the answer was simple, "Oh, that's easy! I just shoot anything that's not human."

Grif computed these words carefully, "Hey…When you mean anything not human, do you mean you shoot at our alien allies as well?"

Sister bit her lip, "Er, well, yeah, sometimes…What? Gimme a break! They all look the same far away!"

Church decided to stay out of this family reunion and keep watch for anymore enemies. Although his body's in the fighting, his mind was somewhere else. Every now and then he would bring his attention to anything that's black on the field. _Why is Tex here? Does she really hate us for not saving her? Or is she trying to tell us something? Crap, I wish I knew where she is…_

Suddenly, a pulse beam tore through his shoulder. "Son of a bitch!" his body fell to the floor but his ghost remained standing. He looked about angrily, "Who the f-?" Then he found his assailant. Peeping through a broken five-story window at a far off factory was a Brute armed with a Beam Rifle. _Oh, you did NOT just snipe me._ PO'ed, Church re-inhabited his body, dressed his wound, radioed to Grif that he will meet up with him later, and snuck off the landing.

After winding through the front line, he pressed his back to the wall beside the factory's open doorway. He peeked around the doorway, gun barrel in front, and discovered the area was nearly picked clean, meaning the place was littered with dead bodies with the exception of two chatting Brutes. _Here's a good spot._ Church briefly abandoned his body, ran across the room, and possessed one of the Brutes. It took about a few seconds to wrest the body's control away from the Brute's spirit. The other Brute faced him, curious of the strange noises Church and the Brute spirit was making, "Huh? You okay?"

"Blarg."

"What—? Ugh!" the Brute was knocked out with a rifle butt to the head. Church then focused at the highest catwalk above him. After scaling several ladders, he at last saw his target. Unaware of his presence, the damned Brute was directing his Beam Rifle at the Marines outside. Church snuck up behind him, peered over the alien's shoulder and saw the next would-be victim. It was the Master Chief. _Oh no you don't._

He stepped forward to ambush the Brute, only to slip on an oil slick and collided against the alien's back. "?" both the Brute and Church keeled forward and fell out of the window and plummeted to the ground. Master Chief spun around at the sound of bodies smacking floor and saw Church's ghost, standing unhurt among the two fallen Brutes, yet shocked all the same.

Two seconds later, Church came out of shock. He waved a meek hand and laughed sheepishly, hoping the situation doesn't look as dumb as it seems, "Uh, heh heh. Hi?"

Master Chief was about to say something but was cut short by the arrival of 6 Mongoose ATVs. "Need a lift, Chief?" a Marine called from one of the vehicles. Master Chief nodded and commandeered the driver's seat; the Marine took up 'shotgun' and whipped out a M41.

The Chief looked back at Church, "You coming?"

Church held up a finger, "Um, one second." He quickly re-inhabited his original body, still lying next to the factory's doorway, and climbed into the driver's seat of another Mongoose.

As they rode towards the landing zone, which they're supposed to secure for the UNSC air forces, Master Chief yelled over to cobalt Spartan, "Whatever you did, thanks."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Ohh, you backstabbing cockbite."

Lying prone on the ground alongside a wrecked Warthog, an abandoned Simmons watched with deep loathing as Tucker's figure fled for the hills. Shortly after Donut and Caboose destroyed the Anti-Aircraft Wraith, an annoying little Drone flew by and dropped a plasma grenade on their Warthog, blasting the human vehicle upside down and throwing its riders out. With Donut and Caboose already moving ahead, Tucker ditching him, and his radio busted, Simmons is forced to consider making it to the landing zone alone.

_When I get my hands on that—that BLUE…!_ He swiped a gun in front of him, rose to his feet, checked for any major damages, and marched on.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Cerberus sulkily stood in a tower in the center of the industrial zone. He snarled inwardly, obviously unsatisfied with his current assignment. _This is impossible! Those Demons. It's like they always travel in pairs like the Lekgolo…Hm? What's this now?_

Unaccompanied and unaware, a Demon in maroon armor was on ground level, peeking around corners and sneaking towards the firefight located outside the industrial area. _Well. Looks like this might be my lucky day,_ Cerberus bared his teeth excitedly.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Simmons's helmet drooped and he exhaled in relief. After what seemed like hours, he finally managed to safely pass the border of the industrial site. Now all he has to do is make it to the landing zone and everything will be fine.

Just as he raised his head, he bumped into an ugly brown wall. _Hey, this isn't a wall. It's…Oh, shit._ A low, haughty chuckle issued from the Brute Chieftain, "Going somewhere, Demon?"

Before Simmons could make a move, the Brute seized the Red's neck and slammed him against a pillar. On impact, warm crimson blood spewed out of Simmons's mouth and plastered all over his visor, impairing most of his line of sight. Cerberus sneered, "I thought you humans in special armor are supposed to be tough. Hmph. The Elites have given you too much credit." The alien fisted Simmons in the gut, causing the human's body to involuntarily coil in agony.

With a couple wheezes in between, Simmons coughed, "What…What the hell is your problem…? Why don't you just…kill me and get it over with?"

Through the speckles of red, he could see the anger flashing in the Brute's eyes and was pummeled even more, "Silence! Did I say you were allowed to speak, human?"

The pain was excruciating. Even being instantly blown to bits by Sheila was better than this. Every punch was like being hit by a train. What's worse is that he couldn't even force a faint, save himself from further pain. Every now and then, the beast would mock him, calling him weak and unworthy of his time. Whatever insults he threw at him, Simmons didn't care. Only the shame of realizing how ill prepared he was for war, how almost all of the injuries he suffered in Blood Gulch couldn't compare, how naïve he was thinking he could become a soldier. Those were the only thoughts running through his mind.

"What's the matter? Lost hope already?" Cerberus dangled the hapless Spartan off the ground, now wearing a disgusted look, "…You're no Demon. Slaying you with my hands will only disgrace me." The Brute released his grip and dropped Simmons on the floor. He then unsheathed a Spiker, hovered the barrel over the human's forehead, and growled, "Farewell, human."

A last odd set of words drifted through Simmons's head…

…_Was I ever a Spartan?_

…

By the time Simmons came to, he saw something blue, shiny, and pointed skewered right through the alien's belly. Cerberus bellowed loudly, moved to confront his new foe and instead was met with six.

"SIMMONS?" Grif cried.

In a horrible untimely manner, Caboose figured out, "Ohh, I get it. 'Simmons' is his _real_ name and 'Roger' is his _nickname_!"

Cerberus roared in frustration. How could such bad luck come at such a time? Completely scrubbing the mission, he loped away before the other Spartans could catch him. "Damn! He got away with my sword!" Tucker complained.

But that wasn't the main concern. Grif, Sister, Donut, Caboose, Doc, and Tucker quickly huddled around Simmons. Grif removed the maroon Spartan's helmet, blood coating his fingers as soon as they made contact with the neck seal, "Ewugh…" He looked over his teammate's wounds, wincing when he saw the cyborg implants on the sides of Simmons's head were shattered and dented. "Shit…! Simmons? Simmons, are you all right? Say something! Anything! You can even call me a fucktard, just say something!"

"…You're…a…fucktard…"

Grif frowned and said flatly, "…I was kidding, bitch."

"Okay, move aside, people," Doc immediately pulled out his med-kit and began working his magic…which isn't really saying much.

Simmons groaned impatiently, "Dammit, Doc, the pain is in my ribs, not in my foot!"

Doc sputtered awkwardly, "Oh, right. Sorry!"

As the healing process went on, Tucker mused, "I wonder where Church is. He said he was with Master Chief—"

It was then that Simmons noticed Tucker was there and remembered how he ended up in this state in the first place. "What are _you_ doing here?" he glared venomously.

Tucker looked at him innocently, "Uhh, I came here to save you?"

Simmons laughed weakly, but derisively, "Oh ho ho, right. Save me. What, did you have some kind of guilty conscious or something?"

The aqua clad Spartan blinked, "What are you talking abou—"

"You left me to die in that fucking field, you stupid Blue!" Simmons snapped.

Tucker could see where this is coming from, now recollecting the prior event. "Whoa, wait a sec, you got it all wrong. See, there were some more enemies coming and I thought you were right behind me and, well…turns out the footsteps I heard behind me weren't yours and I kinda turned around and then this big Brute guy punched me in the face," Tucker gestured at a huge crack that formed across his visor.

When Simmons just stared at him like a mute, Tucker went on desperately, "But the others found me and helped me beat up that Brute and then we went back to the Warthog but you were gone and my radio was busted and…" He finished his story lamely, "Well, I came back, didn't I?"

"Yeah, it's okay, I get it," Simmons puffed out a weary sigh. An awkward silence followed.

Thankfully, Sister broke it with her usual bright perkiness, addressing Simmons, "Y'know. You covered in blood. That's kinda hot."

This dismayed the aqua Spartan, "But I thought you liked _me_!"

Pouting her lips, Sister added with earnest, "Well, I thought you with that sword was sexy too."

A resolved Tucker gazed after where the Brute Chieftain had departed, "That's it. I'm getting that sword back, no matter what it takes!" After Doc treated Simmons wounds, they started for the landing zone.

"I don't like the name 'Roger' very much," Caboose scratched his chin thoughtfully, "You should change your nickname to…'Dick'. Yeah, 'Dick' is a nice name."

"My nickname IS 'Dick', you dick."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Leaving the Master Chief and the rest of the forces to defend the landing zone from an oncoming Scarab, Church rode his Mongoose after a suspicious-looking soldier with an ONI badge on his arm. At last, a chance to get some answers! Although he'll be missing the action (which is fine by him), this, to him, is far more important. Besides, he'll be back before anyone misses him…Right?

After a few twists and turns through a valley of rocky cliffs, the ONI soldier stopped his Mongoose before a massive narrow crevasse, jumped off his vehicle, and slipped through the entryway. Church followed suit and crept as quietly as he could through the tight-spaced tunnel. It didn't take long for the journey to end. The tunnel melded into a cavernous chamber, and situated in the middle of it was a triangular-shaped teleporter. Besides that, no one was occupying the chamber. Church searched the area cautiously. _Where'd that guy go? Did he go through the teleporter?_

"Took you long enough. I was starting to wonder whether it's possible for dead people to go blind."

Startled, Church's eyes swept the room and found the owner of the voice. On the opposite end of the room was Tex, leaning against the wall, arms folded with the ONI soldier he was tracking bound and gagged next to her. "Tex!...?" Church moved forward, but paused abruptly when the black Spartan aimed a Plasma Pistol at him.

Her expression wore one of distrust and paranoia, "Did anyone follow you?" When Church said 'no', she eased off her weapon.

"Tex, what the hell is going on? Why did you attack us?"

"'Attack'? I didn't attack you! I was trying to warn you!"

"Really? Then what was that shot for?"

Tex sighed exasperatedly from all of the questions, "To distract everyone so that I can pull Grif to the side, tell him what's up, and return him before anyone could see me. If it weren't for that Master Chief, my plan would've worked."

Church furrowed his brows, "What plan? What are you hiding from?"

She shook her head, her edginess returning, "That doesn't matter right now. Listen—

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Outside, a company of ONI troopers flooded through the crevasse's entrance.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"—the Red and Blue civil war was just an illusion, a hoax—"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

They stormed down the tunnel, the tapping of their footsteps coming closer and closer.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"—These ONI guys, they lied to us. They pretended to enlist us in the army, but really used us as test subjects in this 'project' to—"

"Halt!" a clutch of ONI were standing at the entrance and more filed into the chamber. Most had their guns pointing at either Spartan as eight soldiers arrested and disarmed them. One of the soldiers took the ONI hostage and freed him.

"Frickin' kids! Ain't ya got any respect for yer elders?" the liberated soldier barked at the two Spartans.

Church exclaimed in surprise, "Hey! Weren't you that pilot that picked us up earlier?"

The middle-aged pilot, however, hardly seem to recognize him, "Maybe. Ya Blue guys all look tha same ta me."

While the pilot was talking, Tex elbowed one of her captors in the stomach and flipped another one on top of a couple other soldiers. Unfortunately, some ONI troops quickly overcame her and jumped into the teleporter with her.

"Tex!" Church cried, attempting to wrest away from the soldiers, "Rrr, lemme go!" A soldier aimed an odd-looking Forerunner weapon at his face. Church snorted, "Heh. Nice try pal, but I'm already dead—Ow!" The soldier zapped him with some kind of orangish beam. Despite he's a ghost and shouldn't feel any pain, this thing stung like hell.

"Don't even think about hopping out of your body," the soldier fingered the weapon's trigger threateningly.

One of the ONI, possibly the leader, radioed to another team, "Bravo Team, we have our ghosts. How's the situation over there?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Next to another teleporter inside an isolated warehouse, the rest of the Red and Blues, each looking equally outraged or confused, was hog-tied by the secondary ONI company. The Bravo leader answered back, "10-4, Alpha Team, Blood Gulchers secured. Preparing for extraction, over."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	5. Area 51

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 5: Area 51_

**: VOI, KENYA**

With the destruction of the Anti-Aircraft emplacement nearly completed, Master Chief surveyed the area, wondering where his fellow Spartans had disappeared off to. When Private Church had vanished earlier, he attempted to radio him but was disappointedly answered with a mild buzzing of frequency waves. Then he tried contacting the other multi-colored soldiers, but, again, no reply. Normally he would dismiss this, considering the cause to be result of poor transmission or something. Doubt settled in, however, when he found a lone maroon helmet lying beside a blood-stained pillar.

He gingerly scooped it off the ground and extracted a camera device. Painfully remembering the late Marine known as Private Jenkins, he plugged the device into his helmet and played the events surrounding the eccentric lives of the Blood Gulchers.

As each segment of film whizzed by, the Chief felt a pressure in his chest, one that was similar to the feeling he had when he discovered he was the last Spartan left. A dreadful sense of fear, regret, and sorrow. It's like somehow, during these past few days, those peculiar fools became his responsibility, just like the team of brothers and sisters he once led so long ago. The notion of him failing them again berated his conscious, making the pressure even more unbearable.

The video abruptly ended after Private Simmons fell unconscious under the hand of a Brute Chieftain. The Chief then slowly disconnected the device and gazed at it in contemplation. In spite of his conflicting inner emotions, Master Chief reluctantly decided clearing the emplacement was of top priority, and that searching for the missing Spartans will have to come second.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: LOCATION UNKNOWN**

**: TELEPORTER BAY**

Typically, the teleporter could only relocate you to a certain distance; but, in this case, the Reds and Blues were materialized into a totally different place. Taking in their new environment, they can tell it was built according to UNSC-standards; militarily based, broad in size, polygonal in structure, and complete with an absence of windows.

Caboose glimpsed around, "Where are we?"

The ONI Bravo leader informed after stripping the Spartans of their weapons, "An ONI Section 3 facility."

"Ohh…" Caboose slowly took these words to memory, then asked, "…What's a 'facility'?"

"Don't answer him. He'll just keep asking you dumb questions."

Caboose and the other detainees looked to their right and saw the testy cobalt soldier standing by another teleporter with his captors, "Church!"

Tucker exclaimed, "How did _you_ get captured? You're a ghost!"

Church muttered while trying to massage his head with his shoulder, since his hands are currently incarcerated, "Oh, they have the means, believe me. The panging in my head proves it."

A door slid open and two important-looking individuals approached them. One was a tall man in familiar brown MJOLNIR armor, and the other a beautiful young woman in a lab coat with short, spiky blond hair. When they stopped three feet from them, the woman took a couple seconds to gaze over them and said to their ONI guards, "Those won't be necessary." She nodded her head at their handcuffs and the guards obediently released the Spartans.

The woman then introduced, "Welcome to Area 51…"

Her audience gasped in awe, "Whoa! Really?"

"…on Mars."

"Aww…Weak! How lame. I was hoping to visit the souvenir shop. What a rip-off. Yeah…"

"I am Dr. Pavlovla and this…" she gestured a hand to the brown Spartan, "…is Lopez the Heavy."

Lopez removed his helmet, revealing a gruff tanned human face, and greeted them in a deep voice, "Hello."

"…HUHHHHHHHH?"

Donut stammered, "But I thought Lopez was a robot and could only speak Spanish!"

Dr. Pavlovla clarified, "Lopez is a robot. We just upgraded his body. Give him a more realistic touch."

Disregarding the topic, Church stepped forward, "Tex said that you used us as test subjects in some project. That the Red and Blue war wasn't real."

The other Spartans, excluding Lopez, clamored in puzzlement, "Test subjects? Not real? What's he talking about?"

Dr. Pavlovla took a breath, ready to pour out her prepared explanation speech, "It's true. You eight are among many who were 'recruited' into taking part in the SPARTAN-2.5 Project…"

Grif snorted sardonically at the name, "Well that's original."

"…And, yes. We tricked you into believing you joined the army so that we could perform the project with less difficulty. Had we told you of the project, you would most likely choose not to join, or your behavior would've changed due to knowing you'd be under constant observation."

Simmons started hyperventilating, "Y-Y-You mean you've b-been watching us all the t-time? Even when we go to the b-b-bathroom?"

The doctor smiled warmly, "We understand your shyness, Private Simmons. But for the sake of science, we had to monitor you 24-7." Simmons looked violated.

"As for the SPARTAN-2.5 Project," she continued, "it is a program formed to measure the capabilities of a cheaply-designed MJOLNIR armor on an average human being. The purpose was to see whether the weaker MJOLNIR armor could be distributed among Marines, if the armor is suitable for non-supersoldiers. To test the armor on a close-to-real-life scale, we had to insert all applicants onto various locations on a Halo and divide them into two teams, the Reds and the Blues. We tell them the Master Chief has destroyed the Covenant Armada and that their enemy is now the opposite team."

"What about that ship? The one that Andy blew up?" Doc brought up.

"Since Wyoming's helmet still has its time-warp ability, the ship was teleported to safety before it could explode. It appeared outside Halo some time in the past, so we had the good fortune to catch it."

Grif narrowed his eyes, trying to put two and two together, "But there _was_ an explosion, right? How could the ship escape while Andy explodes? Andy was touching the ship too, so he should have been teleported with them."

Dr. Pavlovla explained, "Andy was actually not touching the ship at the time of the explosion. The ship's turbulence bounced him into the air and then he exploded after the ship disappeared."

Donut rubbed his skull, "I'm getting a headache."

Doc pointed out, "'Kay, that sort of makes sense…But if this was just a test project, how were we able to go back and forward in time? I mean, wouldn't it be hard to monitor us?"

"Well, yes," she confessed, "We didn't expect so many odd things to happen to you, but you came out of it all right, so we let it slide. But there were times in which we had you sedated and implanted fake memories into you, making you believe you've traveled through long periods of time. We did it to help along in the plot, mainly to entertain the workers. Some of the scientists here don't go out much, you see."

Even though Caboose couldn't understand most of what she said, he seemed to comprehend something and gaped at her, "You can change people's memories? Even ghosts?" When she merely smiled again, Caboose whispered apprehensively to Doc, "I don't like this chick. She can do **anything**."

"Hey, what about my kid? If you captured Tex, that means you have Junior too, right?" Tucker questioned.

Dr. Pavlovla spoke with confidentiality, "I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to disclose any information of their whereabouts."

Full of hope plus incensed, Tucker moved forward to challenge her again but was held back by the guards, "You DO have him! Give him back, bitch!" But no longer did the doctor pay him any attention.

Sister marveled, "Wow…I never felt so screwed in my entire life! Well, except for that one time at that nightclub."

Grif assented, not catching the last remark at first, "Yeah…Wait, what?"

Contrary to Sister's excitement, Church was not a happy camper. Always he believed everything that happened in Blood Gulch was real. Ridiculous, albeit, but real nonetheless. Now this twisted bitch and her organization comes in and tells them it was all just a ruse. And what's worse, he and Tex DIED for this sick joke. He glowered heatedly, despising the idea of being unwittingly used and manipulated purely for the benefit of others, "So, in other words, the Red and Blue civil war was just a big fucking lie. Tex knew this and you didn't want her to tell us the truth."

Dr. Pavlovla closed her eyes and tilted her head into a semi-bow, "When you put it that way, yes."

"And the destruction of Blood Gulch, of that Halo. That was you too, wasn't it?"

"Again, yes. I'll be very frank with you, Private Church. The SPARTAN-2.5 Project was a failure. It presented feeble results, mostly due to the fact that we didn't expect the majority of our subjects retaining such low amounts of intelligence and skill. Even the SPARTAN-IIIs had a higher improvement rating."

Grif sidelong-glanced Simmons, now offended, "Dude. Did she just call us stupid AND incompetent?"

Tucker shook his head at the woman in disbelief, "Man, that's some cold shit, lady."

"Anyway, we were forced to scrap the project and return our unsuspecting subjects back home," the doctor turned and took a few steps away from them. Her eyes dimmed a little, showing some kind of regret behind her cold persona, "Unfortunately, we had to demolish the Halo as well, for fear that the Covenant might discover what we were doing." She let out a depressed sigh, "It wasn't an authentic Halo, but it was real enough. It was a rough replica of Installation 4. We created it out of the Forerunner technology we procured from Installation 4's remnants, so that we may study you in a controlled environment."

She moved around to face them once more, her expression returning to its normal indifference, "Had you been on the actual one, you probably would've been infected by the Flood."

"Flood?" Doc repeated interestedly.

Motioning them to follow her, Dr. Pavlovla led them out of the teleporter room.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: RESEARCH LABORATORY**

The trip towards the interior of the facility was a long one. Riding down the lift felt like they were being pulled closer and closer to the center of the planet. Miles of corridors and rooms stretched throughout the structure, resembling that of a cocooned maze. Occasionally, the Reds and Blues would peer through windows and see scientists, technicians, and assorted military personnel bustling about, doing their business experimenting with innovative technology or studying new life forms. Then Donut queried dubiously, "Does the UNSC know about this?"

Dr. Pavlovla said lightly, appearing to be quoting someone she had previously spoken with, "The UNSC doesn't need to be bothered with trivial matters such as ours."

Finally reaching their destination, the Spartans were escorted into a wide observation room. On the other side of a one-way mirror, they could see a few scientists examining three hideous looking, bulbous creatures inside a trio of cylindrical tanks. Every once in a while, the creatures would emit an odd warbling noise and lash out their broken, fleshy arms at their watchers.

The Reds and Blues were absolutely stock-still; stunned, disgusted, afraid. What frightened them the most was that many of the monsters seemed awfully close to human. "…What the fuck is that?" Simmons spoke at last, his gaze not daring to tear away from the gross beasts.

Dr. Pavlovla apprised, "That, ladies and gentlemen, is _Inferi redivivus_…the Flood."

Giving them a minute to soak in the discovery, the doctor then moved on to another portion of the looking glass, "Specifically, those were combat forms, but all forms originate from the infection form." This next specimen was enclosed in a smaller container and was mostly spherical in shape with dozens of tentacles spastically flailing about. "This little guy infects its host by penetrating its tentacles through the skin toward the spinal cord, setting off a series of neurological and physiological changes to its host. From there a combat form is born."

To Church, Dr. Pavlovla's voice seemed like it was coming from a far distance. He heard the term "Flood" before when he was back fighting alongside the Master Chief, and the horror stories Sergeant Major Johnson used to tell them around the campfire began to vividly shimmer out of memory. _"It was like hell. The little bastards just kept comin'. Took forever to escape that ring…Lotta men died, or were transformed into one of those ugly-ass freaks. Including me and the Chief, only a handful of us survived."_

One of the carrier forms detained in another tank burst its bubbly top and a small group of infection forms flew out and smacked against the tank's glass. They clambered at the scientists hungrily, ravenously, with only one thing in mind. Food.

"Uhh, miss doc lady? Can we leave now? I don't feel so good," Caboose murmured meekly, openly shivering with fright. Nobody opposed this request. For once, the doctor gave a look of sympathy to the frightened Blue and quietly consented.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The group departed from the labs and entered the mess hall where the Spartans were met with some unexpected people. A familiar high-pitch, fast nasal voice and a gruff Southern U.S. accent filled the hall. It sounded like the pair was in the middle of an argument.

"Ah-ha! So you **do **admit you're a traitor!" the Southern accent boomed, hostilely aiming a shotgun at the other's chest.

The nasal voice retorted, "No. I'm just saying I work for both sides."

"Sarge? Vic?" Grif exclaimed in surprise, "What are you guys doing here?"

Simmons added, "Weren't you supposed to stay in rehab for another week, Sarge?"

Sarge snickered, lowering and patting his shotgun proudly, "Oh, that? They let me out early for good behavior. Heh heh."

Donut asked, "But how did you get here, sir?"

The Red leader enlightened the pink soldier with a short tale, "Welp, after they let me out, I was intended to be sent to Kenya, to join up with the rest of y'all. But I took the wrong ship and ended up here."

Grif said unimpressed, "Smooth."

"What's that, Grif? Is that sarcasm I hear?" Sarge pushed a gun barrel to Grif's temple. The orange Spartan exhaled, knowing defeat, "No, sir."

Sister looked at Vic curiously, "So, uh…You're Vic."

The Red and Blue radio support grinned, "Yup! That's me, amigos. Never expected to see you out of that box, eh?"

"Ha ha. Funny," Church said, although was neither laughing nor smiling, "Lemme guess. You were in on it too."

Vic appeared to be oblivious to what's going on, "In on wha?"

Sarge scowled, directing his shotgun back at Vic, "Don't play with us, Vic, you dirty turncoat. I bet you're nothing but a stinkin' double agent."

Vic said casually, "Hey, I just did what Captain Flowers told me to do. I mean, the Red and Blue Commands _did_ merge, right?...Right?"

Everyone was staring at the radio support. "…What are you talking about, Vic?" Church inquired, perplexity eating at him.

Subsequent to explaining the events that happened in _Red vs. Blue_ Season 3, Vic concluded, "…And then I merged the Reds and Blues."

Church smacked his forehead, now recalling his role in the plot, "Ohhh, crap."

"You little turd! How dare you combine our armies without our consent! Take this!" Sarge shot Vic in the foot.

"Ay! The pain!" Vic rolled on the floor, cradling his wounded appendage.

At this point, Dr. Pavlovla had to intervene. "Okay, I think that's quite enough," she came over and handed Caboose a large bowl of Jell-O ("Thank you, nice doc lady." – Caboose) and rested a hand on her hip, accosting the others, "It's late. I suggest you all rest up. Lopez will show you to your quarters."

Tucker was caught off-guard, "Whoa. Who says we're staying?"

"Me. As of right now, I can't trust you with the information you've just learned. Thus, you shall remain here."

"Tch. Whatever," Church was about to leave but was blocked off by a troop of ONI guards.

"Well then…" Dr. Pavlovla said confidently, "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Grif grunted as Lopez ushered them out the door.

"Private Simmons? Private Church?" the doctor beckoned the maroon and cobalt soldiers, "Would you please come with me for a minute?"

In the background, a medic is seen treating Vic's foot. "Oh, ow, ow! Easy, it's tender!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: RESIDENTIAL AREA**

It didn't take long for the Reds' room to be littered with trash and wrappers leftover from Grif's dinner. "What the-?" Sarge came into the room and found himself swimming in a pigsty, "Grif, you lazy fat ass, clean this garbage up! And don't make me say it twice!" And the Red leader waded back out.

"Grif, I don't think you're allowed to smoke indoors," said Donut, who was sitting on his bed, the only spot that's clean. Lying on another bed with arms tucked behind his head, Grif just looked at Donut and blew smoke in his face. "Koff! Koff! Ack!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Let's see…Umm…" Sister inspected the shower's switch, "For warm, turn this way…Ouch! Too hot!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Since there are more Reds than Blues at the moment, Doc decided to bunk with the Blues. "I dunno…I don't really like the idea of hanging out in a place with a bunch of mindless hungry aliens waiting at our door," Doc shuddered, "It just gives me the creeps."

Tucker shrugged, "Well, we don't have much of a choice, do we? I guess that means we're gonna be stuck here for a while."

Caboose, however, was content in eating his Jell-O, "That lady may have tricked us, but she's really very nice."

"Oh, c'mon! That bitch could care less if we killed each other," Tucker countered, "Just because she gave you a snack, Caboose, doesn't mean she's your friend."

The dark blue soldier tilted his head to the side, "Then…what is she?"

"What do you mean 'what is she'? She's a…a…well, uhh…I mean, she's like…you know!"

"No, I don't know."

The aqua Spartan heaved tiredly, like a parent trying to explain the meaning of life to a child, "Look. She's a bad guy, okay? Kinda like the sneaky types that do bad things behind your back."

"Like Church?" When Tucker and Doc looked at him funny, Caboose hissed in a forbidding tone, "He ate my cookies when I was asleep! Friends NEVER eat their friends' cookies when they're asleep."

Tucker corrected, "No, dude, that's what you call an asshole."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: INFIRMARY**

"ACHOO!" Church sneezed, "Ugh, what the…?"

Dr. Pavlovla applied a cotton ball, saturated with rubbing alcohol, against Simmons's face. "OWWWWWW SHIIIIIIIIIT!...That hurt," Simmons sniffled unhappily.

The doctor chuckled softly and teased, "Big baby."

The maroon Spartan pouted, "Am not."

Seated on the opposite side of the cloth divider, Church's robot body was being repaired by a technician. Since he can't actually feel anything, Church sat there in silence, brooding over what had recently occurred. Questions of the well-being of Tex and the curiosity of the outcome of O'Malley surfaced inside. He asked Dr. Pavlovla these questions, but the doctor wouldn't reveal a thing. She even refused to pay any heed to his worries on the Flood. Every time he voiced his concern, she'd try to reassure him that all is well or just plainly ignore him. So Church gave up and decided to raise another matter.

"So, uh, how did you find us? You know, Tex and me?"

The doctor discarded the cotton ball into a trash bin, looking very exhausted, "For someone's that's dead, you sure ask a lot of questions."

Church said defensively, "Well, what did you expect? That all dead people know everything? I mean, c'mon!"

"All right, all right…" she conceded, "When Tex captured one of our men, he sent us a distress signal. Coincidentally, at the same time, your friends discovered another one of our private teleporters." Her tone became cool as she replaced the cyborg implants on the sides of Simmons's head, "It's a miracle we have you all here in one piece. With that much color standing out, I'm surprised the Covenant haven't killed any of you yet."

Simmons and Church cried, "Hey!"

"Well, you guys aren't exactly Spartan material," she stated halfheartedly.

Simmons folded his arms and reproached, "Yeah, well, you should've thought of that **before** you enlisted us."

Church concurred just as strongly, "Yeah!...Wait…Are we _agreeing_ with her?"

Leaving them to settle their dispute, Dr. Pavlovla swiveled in her chair to the left and inquired the technician fixing Church, "Matthias, where is Lopez?"

The tech checked his watch and replied, "Mnn, he should've been back by now."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Down in the facility's central control room, a couple noncoms were chilling in their seats, one reading a newspaper and the other watching a football game. "Aw, shoot, he missed again!" the football fan complained.

The door hissed open and Lopez came walking in. "Huh? Oh, hey, Lopez, what's up—" A bullet ripped straight through the football fan's skull, killing him instantly.

"Phil! Rrr, hold it right there, pal!" the other noncom dropped his newspaper and moved to pull out his weapon, but was met with the same fate as his friend.

Lopez strode over the bodies and began typing on the main computer. _"Oh, doctor…I'm back… Mweheheheheh…"_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	6. Double jeopardy

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 6: Double jeopardy_

**: VOI, KENYA**

"Sir, new contact slipping in!"

A damaged and infected Covenant ship tore across the dusky African sky. A distance away from Voi, Master Chief and the Arbiter looked on as it crashed into the ruined city below. "What is it? More Brutes?" the Covenant Separatist asked tentatively.

Master Chief held his breath, a rock forming in the pit of his stomach, "Worse."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: AREA 51, MARS**

**: RESIDENTIAL AREA**

"AHHHHHHH!"

The Reds and Blues came stumbling into the shower room. Grif bent over with his hands on his knees and puffed heavily from his short run, panicked and in disarray, "Wha? Wh-What's wrong?"

"Ooh, kill it, kill it, kill it!" Wet and naked in the shower stall, Sister squeamishly pointed at a fat cockroach skittering on the edge of a sink.

"…" Grif sweatdropped and narrowed his eyes at this tiny new enemy. Everyone else, however, was ogling his nude sister (except Donut, who was admiring the elaborate tile-designs on the floor). Tucker was especially happy, "Bow chicka bow wow!"

Luckily, Sister had a towel wrapped around her, distorting most of the view, but Grif wasn't too keen on the situation anyway. "Hey, stop staring at my sister! Get outta here!" he whacked Tucker and shooed the others away. Once they were gone, he took up the task of slaying the nasty intruder.

"Geez, I can't believe you're still scared of cockroaches," he muttered, wiping up the mess.

"Hey, I don't knock on you and your bat problem," Sister retorted.

Grif gave in on that one, "Touché."

Suddenly, an alarm went off throughout the building. "Huh?" Grif and Sister paused and looked around. Then a female computerized voice was heard over the P.A. system.

"**Warning. Security breach in Sector 5. Emergency Level 1 Lockdown commencing. All non-military personnel are required to clear the facility. Repeat. All non-military…"**

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Screaming. Terrified, endless, bloodcurdling nightmarish screaming echoed from within the ravaged, blood-splattered lab. Desperate hands pressed against the observatory glass, hopelessly scratching for escape. Electric wires snapped from their intended places and engulfed the lab into darkness. The vague trilling and warbling of the experimented creatures overran the cries of their prey. They were free, and they were hungry.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Red sirens blared in every room and hall. Anywhere outside of Sector 5, people were hastily rushed to the facility's exits, quickly vacating most of the building. All that remain were a few technicians, the ONI armed forces, and the Spartans.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Followed closely by Church and Simmons, Dr. Pavlovla entered the central control room. Both Red and Blue soldiers flinched when they saw the bodies of the two noncoms. Bending over the console, an ONI lieutenant, the same lieutenant the Reds and Blues met on the ship fleeing Blood Gulch, was scrutinizing the many small screens that make up most of the main computer's monitor. The doctor approached him while observing the two corpses at their feet, her tone serious and concise, "What's the situation here, Preston?"

Lt. Preston briefed, "Security cam picked up Lopez killing these two. He then messed with the controls and appeared to have released the Flood from their cells." He motioned to one of the mini-screens. A cluster of horrified humans were being bombarded by a swarm infection forms in an elevator. "They only managed to claim the research labs so far. All blast doors and ventilation shafts in that area are closed, but who knows how long it will be until they find another way out."

"Oh my God…" Simmons breathed, speaking Church's thoughts out loud.

"How many of those…**things** did you keep?" Church rounded on the doctor.

She averted her eyes, pretending to be focused on the screens. The embarrassment of not being able to contain her own subjects was written all over her face, "Originally, 83 specimens."

"Well, doctor, looks like you're gonna be having way more than 83 soon if we don't get the hell outta here. C'mon, Simmons, let's go," Church moved for the door, but stopped when he noticed no one was leaving, "Oh, man, you guys can't seriously be thinking we can stop _that_." He waved a hand at a screen showing combat forms raiding the storage units.

Preston nonchalantly loaded his assault rifle, "The nearest city is 67 miles away. If we don't get a lid on those freaks…"

Church argued, "Well, yeah, but why _us_?"

The Spartan's cowardice irked the lieutenant. Why did ONI waste their resources on such spineless men? How do these idiots expect to survive in times of war? By running away? It's no surprise why the SPARTAN-2.5 Project failed. The subjects are nothing but fools and cowards.

"Listen, you," Preston seized Church by the neck-seal, "I don't know what reasons you have for joining the army, but if this is the limit of your courage, then you might as well have stayed at home."

The cobalt soldier, in return, glared defiantly back at the ONI lieutenant, "Fuck you, bitch. You don't know nothin' about me."

After a few seconds of silence, Simmons said evenly, "Church, I'm staying."

"…?" Church didn't expect the Red's sudden declaration, "Simmons…?"

"I…I want to stay and fight. I know most of us joined the army 'cause we wanna fight some aliens or something. But if I suck so bad that I can't even do that, or worse, can't defend myself or my friends…" the maroon Spartan muttered, gazing down at the floor, recalling the battle he had with the Brute Chieftain, "…then I can't really call myself a soldier." With a burst of willpower, he then looked up and hard into the Blue leader's eyes, "I want to test myself. To see if I **can** become a soldier. So I'm staying."

Everyone stared at him, touched by his short heartfelt speech. Everyone except Church, that is.

"…You got that from some anime show, didn't you?"

Simmons stammered, "What? No, I didn't!" When Church continued to stare at him, he finally said, "…Okay, you're right. But I didn't copy anything. I was _inspired_."

"Riiiight. Hey, get off me, man," Church shoved Preston off of him and exhaled, rolling his eyes, "Anyway, I didn't say we're _not_ going to help. I'm saying we should get everyone outta here and nuke the place."

Dr. Pavlovla raised a hand, "Good plan, but there's something we have to do first." She turned to Preston, "Lieutenant, do we know where Lopez is?"

Preston checked the computer again, "He's gone. He took one of the Longswords. But just before he left, he broke into the detention center and kidnapped the Elite known as Y'tzu Zazuree, Junior, and Tex."

"What?" Church shouted.

The doctor said in a calming voice, "Church, I know Tex is important to you, but we have other things to worry about now. Once we're done dealing with the Flood, you can go save your girlfriend."

Church blushed, "She's not my girlfriend! Not anymore…" He glimpsed away, hoping no one would read what he was thinking.

The aching reminiscence of his one-time relationship with the fickle freelancer tore at his insides, like a broken rib that refuses to mend. It wasn't bad enough he thought she was gone for good. Now she's back and his conscious is nagging him, saying here's his chance to save her and make up for whatever damn reason they separated in the first place. But, then again, she was the one who left him, right? The bitch that kept stealing his wallet and cheating on him. Why should he break his back for her? _Oh, that's right. I do it because I still love her…_

But does _she_ still feel the same way about him? _…Dammit…_

Brushing past his discomforting inner thoughts, Dr. Pavlovla pulled out a small data chip from her pocket and handed it to the disillusioned cobalt soldier, "I want you and Simmons to go to the arsenal, get weapons and new armor. This contains a map in case you get lost, and should provide you the proper clearance to access the vault. There you will also find the solution to our problems. Radio me when you find the bombs."

As Church inserted the chip into his helmet, Simmons repeated, puzzled, "Bombs…? Wait, what about you?"

"Preston and I will enter Sector 5 and retrieve Sheila."

"Sheila?" both Red and Blue cried. Simmons protested, "But there's Flood in that area!"

But Dr. Pavlovla and Preston were already heading out the door. Then Church cried out, "Hey!" The doctor halted in her tracks. "…At least tell us why you were willing to reveal everything about Blood Gulch."

She lingered at the threshold, hesitated, then said, "…We'll talk about that later…Good luck, Spartans." And she was gone.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Meanwhile, in the residential area, Doc grabbed a passing-by ONI guard by the arm, "Excuse me, but would you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Flood outbreak. Might want to head to the arsenal and suit up," the guard told and hurried away with his comrades.

Doc looked back at Tucker, "I didn't say I told you so, but, I told you so."

The aqua soldier scrubbed his face with his hand, not believing this ugly turn of events, "Aw, man, I can't believe this! I'm gonna die. And I'm still a virgin!" Just then, their radios buzzed.

"**Tucker, you there?"**

Since Tucker's radio is still damaged from the battle at Voi, Caboose returned the call, "Church's Chicken! Wow, great timing! I would like 10 pieces of chicken with a large Coke and—"

"**Caboose, if you don't get off this line right now…"**

Tucker swiftly wrest Caboose's helmet off his head and swapped it with his own, "Church, what's up?"

"**Get the Reds and Blues together. I'm gonna need some help."**

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: SPACE, ENROUTE TO EARTH**

A subtle rocking awoken Tex. "Unh…" she moaned and instinctively drew her hands in to rub her sleepy face. When her hands were impeded in their movements, she snapped open her eyes and found herself chained to the bulkhead of a ship. She scanned her surroundings, wondering how she got there. Last thing she remembered was being held captive in Area 51. _What am I doing here? Is ONI planning to use me for something again? _Over on the other side of the ship she saw two hunkering Elites, still unconscious and incarcerated in a way similar to her. "Junior…!" she whispered, recognizing the aqua-blue armor clad alien. The shuffling of footsteps caught her ears and she glanced upward to see her captor.

"_Well, well. Awake are you?"_ a familiar sinister voice issued from the entranced Lopez.

"O'Malley!" Tex exclaimed in shock, "I thought ONI deleted you. How…?"

"_Hweheheheh. Ignorant fools. They killed only a fraction, a part of the whole, not knowing the original had escaped…ONI's system core wasn't enough. I want more, I need MORE…! And you will help me get it, Reclaimer,"_ the evil A.I. spoke to no one in particular, his/Lopez's wary eyes casting here and there.

_Reclaimer? _Tex cocked her brow, baffled at the A.I.'s abnormal conduct. She was well aware that O'Malley was suffering from an acute form of rampancy, but to what degree now, she doesn't know. "What do you mean 'Reclaimer'?"

But O'Malley's attention was elsewhere, _"The Ark…The Ark…Mwahahahaha…"_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: AREA 51, MARS**

**: ARSENAL**

"And that's the story," Church finished as the Reds and Blues hiked towards the arsenal.

Sarge narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "How do we know you're telling the truth? This could be some kind of Blue trick."

Simmons supported, "Everything he says is true, sir. I was there. O'Malley's back and he's the one who released the Flood to distract us from tailing him."

"If O'Malley's back, then where is he, huh?" the Red leader said mockingly.

Church sighed resignedly, "Whatever. I don't care if you don't believe me about O'Malley, but right now we've got to work together against the Flood. If we don't, we're history."

The group then came up to a heavily-secured door. Tucker whistled, "Damn. They must be hiding some sweet shit in there." Church pressed his hand to the access pad and the doors disengaged and rolled open. Poking their heads in, they gaped at the incredible sight before them.

The stainless-steel arsenal was filled to the brim with weapons, ammo, and a variety of equipment. Lined up neatly along the walls and inside numerous lockers were organized sets of assault rifles, both human and Covenant, all divided by type and caliber. Below them were assorted machine guns and sniper rifles, and below that, handguns and pistols. Rocket launchers and grenades scattered here and there. Everything brand new and unused. And to top it off, tools such as the bubble shield were available in the storeroom to the right.

"Oh, man, it's the frickin' motherload!" Grif gawked, picking up a Fuel Rod Cannon.

Donut looked about excitedly, "So where's the armor?"

Moving to the far end of the room, Church inquisitively examined a huge, plain metallic wall. _Huh…There's no weapons here…_Upon sensing the motion from the cobalt soldier, the same female computerized voice that sounded the previous alert spoke, **"Identification please."**

"Uhh. Private Leonard L. Church."

"**Access denied. Please state codename tag."**

Church mumbled, scratching his chin in thought, "Codename? I don't have a…"

"**You have 10 seconds to verify identity. 10…"** Two automated turrets came out of the top corners of the wall and aimed at the strangers. "Shit!" the Spartans ran for cover behind the weapons' display cases, leaving the helpless Church alone in his predicament.

Sarge cupped his mouth and hollered, "Try telling it your Spartan tag!"

Church sputtered, "B-But I don't KNOW my Spartan tag!"

"**7…"**

Wracking his brain, Church frantically searched the database on the chip Dr. Pavlovla gave him. Finally, he came across his profile. **"4…"**

"C'mon, c'mon! SPARTAN-what…?"

"**2…"**

"Ah! SPARTAN-413!"

"…**Processing…Access granted. Welcome, SPARTAN-413."** The metallic wall rippled like water and dissolved, exposing the secret vault within. The others emerged from hiding and stood next to Church, peering down the narrow hallway. Caboose waved a hand in front of the Blue leader's visor, "Uh, Church? Hellooo. You okay?"

"I think my body just crapped in its pants."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: RESEARCH LABORTORY**

Lt. Preston squeezed his assault rifle tightly as Dr. Pavlovla slid an ID card through the access pad. He probably would have rejected this plan if it weren't for the reassuring company of 30 well-trained ONI soldiers. However, when they passed through the gate separating them and the mysterious beyond, a feeling of uncertainty and apprehension took over the lieutenant. _Maybe this isn't such a great idea…No! We must find Sheila. For humanity's sake._

Nevertheless, the hum of the gate shutting and locking behind them did somewhat shook his resolve, and the mounting darkness, save the rotating red lights from the silent alarms and the glowing panels on the walls, gradually chewed away at his valor. But Dr. Pavlovla's unwavering disposition miraculously reined him back in as he watched her took out her own pistol, "All right. Let's go."

The entry level was strangely deserted; no blood, no bodies, no Flood. But when they neared the lift, it was completely the opposite.

A human arm lies extended from the foot of the lift. The doors continually attempt to close but were denied the right by the bloodied obstruction, making the lift emit a constant _dinging_ noise. The soldiers shined their flashlights at the opening as they cautiously advanced.

"See anything?"

"Nothin'…Wait. What the hell is-?"

"Shit! Contact!"

Dozens of infection forms poured out of the elevator and crawled along the walls toward them. The soldiers let loose a brutal range of bullets, easily popping the creatures like balloons. As more of the little freaks flowed out into the hall, a pair of flesh-dangling hands reached out from inside the elevator and clutched the moving doors, forcing them wide open. A combat form stuck out its mutated, gruesome head and roared. More dropped in from the elevator hatch above. It then occurred to Preston why the entry level was so deserted. They were waiting for them.

"They're comin' out!"

"Use your M41! Take 'em down!"

"There's too many!"

"Aw, dammit!"

"Private, come back here!"

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: ARSENAL**

"Heyyy. This new armor's REALLY comfy!" Caboose marveled at his shiny blue attire.

Grif agreed, massaging his gut, "Yeah! And it's not so tight around the midsection anymore!"

"And whose fault was that, Mr. Clean-the-Refrigerator-Out? You even took the expired milk!" Simmons said accusingly.

The orange Spartan justified himself, "I was stocking up. I didn't want to be unprepared like those people in that _Day After Tomorrow_ movie."

His maroon counterpart scoffed, "Yeah, right. Like global warming is really gonna do all that."

"You laugh now, but when the end of the world happens and you run out of food, don't come crying to me."

Donut pranced around in hot pink armor, did a pirouette, and batted his eyes at the group, "Well, what do you think? Does this make me look fat? Does it bring out my eyes?"

Church gritted his teeth, "Can I shoot him?"

"What are all these yellow moving dots on my HUD?" Tucker queried, turning his head this way and that to watch the blips on his visor. Sarge replied, "That's the motion-detection feature; yellow means allies. All MJOLNIR armor is outfitted with it. Well, all except ours, that is."

"Yeah, 'cuz we're a bunch of rejects and it's only natural that we end up with the cheap stuff," Grif grumbled cynically.

Comprehension dawned on Doc's face, "So _that's_ why the Master Chief usually seems to know where the enemy is. I always thought he was omniscient or something."

Simmons crossed his arms, fairly sullen, "Man, I bet if we had this before, one of our teams would've won the war."

Church inspected his armor interestedly, "I wonder what other features this thing has."

"Hey, guys! Come here! You gotta look at this!" Sister called. The company of Spartans followed the sound of her voice and entered a giant white room, void of any exits besides the one they came in from. Yet, what astounded everyone was not the total whiteness of the room (except Caboose, "Ooooh…Whitey…"), rather the enormous pyramid of sphere-shaped bombs piled in its center.

Church exclaimed, "No way…Andy?"

"You mean 'Andys'," Grif amended. Tucker observed the pyramid with wide eyes, "Daaang…Tex made ALL of these?"

Unexpectedly, the bombs then spoke, "Whaddya want, cocksuckers?"

Caboose clasped his hands together and beseeched the pile, "Do you know where our Andy is? You know, the Andy that blew up O'Malley's ship? Is he okay?"

"Ohh, you mean the one stationed in Blood Gulch, Andy-007? He's long gone! Yep. But he shall be missed. The little bastard. He was my second cousin twice removed, y'know."

Sarge glimpsed at Church, "'Kay, we found the bombs. Now what?"

The Blue leader radioed Dr. Pavlovla, "Hey, doctor, we got the bombs. What do you want us to do now?"

"**Fsshhh…"**

"Doctor? Hey, Dr. Pav-whatever, come in. This is Church."

"…"

Church furrowed his eyebrows, "That's funny. She's not answering."

Suddenly, a slight quake swelled beneath their feet. When the shaking stopped, the Reds and Blues glanced about in confusion. Sister said aloud, "What was that?"

"Hey, hey! What's goin' on?" the Andys chorused.

Simmons murmured, eying the walls, "I've got a bad feeling about this…"

A number of seconds passed until Donut piped up nervously, "Uhh, Sarge, what does it mean when there's RED dots moving towards us?"

But the Red leader didn't have the time to respond. A light, skittering noise echoed from the arsenal's entrance. Everyone froze on the spot. "Is that…what I think it is?" Doc squeaked, hugging his healing apparatus to his chest. More noises.

"It's getting closer…" Sister bit her lip timidly, not accustomed to the emotion she felt. Grif moved to safeguard her, but Tucker got in front of her first, "Don't worry, babe, I'll protect you."

If Church had sweat glands, his whole body would've been soaked as of this point. Caboose trembled behind him, rocking back and forth, whispering, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home…"

Glancing back, Church saw the frightened faces of the others, "…"

"_I don't know what reasons you have for joining the army, but if this is the limit of your courage, then you might as well have stayed at home."_

He gazed down at the ground pensively, his expression set. Then, focusing his sights back at the open doorway, he shouldered his sniper rifle and braced an assault rifle in his hands, glaring determinedly, "Fuck this shit. Bring it on!"

A massive wave of infection forms flooded into the white room. Sarge ordered, "FIRE!" And the screams and yells of the Reds and Blues were drowned out by the fierce din of gunfire.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	7. To hell and back

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 7: To hell and back_

**: AREA 51, MARS**

**: ARSENAL**

As if in slow-mo, the last empty shell casing fell and clattered onto the ground. Slight breathing echoed from among the humans. A field of green goo and fleshy bits littered the entrance, stretching from the doorway to three feet shy of the Blood Gulchers. The dull thud of Donut passing out resounded within the cavernous white room. The skirmish was over.

"I think…the doc lady is in trouble," Church huffed, sort of disheveled from the assault.

"'Trouble'?" Sarge grunted, "She's dead! What we got here is the lil' ones. Imagine if the biggens attacked us. They'd paint the floor with us like a rainbow!"

Simmons spoke up, "But Dr. Pavlovla told us to get the bombs while she finds Sheila. I mean, there's gotta be a reason why she's really bent on—"

The mountain of Andys rudely interjected, "Of course there's a reason. Without Sheila, you can't operate us to detonate in a synchronized attack. Since those uglies are uncontainable, the doc probably wanted to use us and Sheila to bomb the whole building."

"Can't we just overload a power generator or something?" Doc inquired as he tends to Donut.

"Nope. Won't work. The crazies in here were so fussy in ensuring the safety of Area 51 that they designed the place with tons of fail-safes, particularly on the power generators."

Tucker dropped his arms exasperatedly, "Swell. So how're _you_ guys supposed to help?"

The bombs talked back with an attitude, "How should we know? We're just tools to counter the worst case scenario, not made to plan out strategies. That's an A.I.'s job. Ask Sheila."

"And to do that, we'd have to go play 'infiltrating the maw'," Simmons mumbled, "That's just peachy."

Church motioned towards the door, "Well, I guess we better get going. The longer we stick around, the more those things multiply."

"Are you crazy?" Grif exclaimed, "We should evacuate the whole planet! This is a suicide mission, super-soldier work! The only reason Master Chief did so great on his Halo missions is because A) he had that hot, smart A.I. helping him, and B) he's fucking lucky! And, given from the records of our **poor** military careers, _we're_ not so lucky…not to mention we lack hot, smart chicks." He glanced over at his not-so-bright sister, who appeared blissfully oblivious to this statement.

Simmons looked at him, his expression bland, "Wow, Grif. You weren't so happy about knowing how much we suck until now."

The orange soldier said candidly, "I'm just pointing out the truth through, I admit, fear of death."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Grif, but we're the only ones here that can do something about this. And if I catch you, or anyone, going AWOL…" Church targeted his assault rifle's reticule at Grif and other potential deserters.

Doc cried, "Why are you aiming at me?"

Sarge charged his shotgun, "Well what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Caboose gestured back at the mound of bombs, "But what about the Andys?"

"Oh, yeah. Hmm…" Church pondered, "…We'll split up. Half of us will wait here and guard the bombs. The rest will get Sheila." However, deep down, none of the Spartans wanted to do either of the two jobs. Hence, after quite some arguing, the company finally decided to draw lots. Ultimately, the results stand thus: Caboose, Sister, Donut, and Grif are to stay with the Andys, while Church, Sarge, Simmons, Tucker, and Doc are set on the appointed mission.

Sarge nodded at the other group, "Aw'right. When we find her, we'll radio you guys on the new plan."

Grif waved as they marched away, "Good luck! Have fun!"

"Hey, Caboose?" Church poked his head back in, "If anyone tries to leave…shoot 'em."

"Okie dokie!"

"Damn."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: AFRICA, EARTH**

**: VOI, KENYA**

The Master Chief and the Arbiter raced through the city as fast as they could, charged with the duty to locate the crashed Flood-infected ship and overload its engine core. The plan was to destroy Voi, hoping to save the rest of the planet from infestation. Moving further into the city, they found a loading ramp full of retreating Marines.

"Fall back, fall back!" a Marine sergeant yelled.

A female soldier tried to urge her superior to leave, "Sergeant, come on!" But it was too late. Infection forms and combat forms of various types swooped in on the Marines, laying waste on the unfortunate humans. Master Chief and the Arbiter did their best to aid in the fight, but, in the end, the sole survivor of the platoon was that one female soldier.

"About damn time!" she said when she caught sight of the Chief.

Though not pleased at the ill quantity of remaining troops, Master Chief knows they're running low on time. "C'mon, we gotta move," he grunted, and they headed for one of the ruined structures.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: AREA 51, MARS**

**: ENROUTE TO RESEARCH LABORATORY**

Church leaned against a wall and peered around the corner. A vicious firefight was taking place inside the mess hall. _Good. Someone's still alive._ He sidled up to the open entrance and took out his sniper rifle. _Please, please, PLEASE let me hit something!_ He fired a shot at a combat form's head and the monster went down in a flash. "Yeah!...Uh, oh."

Some of the Flood beasts heard his cheer and spun around and spotted him. The tiny infection forms trilled excitedly and immediately went for their new prey. Thinking fast, Church lobbed a plasma grenade on the group. _That should take care of them._ But he was wrong. Despite the grenade has attached to one of the freaks, they continued to recklessly charge at him!

"Oh, fuck!" he wheeled around and power-sprinted in the opposite direction.

"C'mere, Blue!" Sarge reached out from behind a column and caught Church by the arm, yanked him into a crouching position beside him, and threw down a bubble shield. The spore-like creatures slapped themselves onto the temporary shield and the plasma grenade promptly went off, splattering gunk everywhere. Although the little annoyances were gone, a mob of combat forms soon took their place and were stampeding through the mess hall door.

"For the Reds!" Sarge shouted, melting them away with his trusty shotgun. It was then that Church realized how grateful he was for taking the Red leader with them. Not only did the old veteran have some military experience and skill, but his shotgun was doing a considerable amount of damage upon the Flood.

As Church and Sarge maintained their diversion, Tucker and Simmons swept into the mess hall from another entrance and searched for survivors. Backing towards a wall, the ONI Alpha Team leader was dragging the severely wounded and unconscious Bravo Team leader while holding off a pair of Elite combat forms. Evidently, half of both their teams have been wiped out or assimilated, leaving less than fifteen battle-worn soldiers to fend for themselves, each sustaining some kind of injury.

One of the Elite forms jumped forward to pounce onto the Alpha leader. But halfway in mid-air, Tucker shot up its legs, propelling the beast's body over the Alpha leader's head and dunking it into the garbage can behind him. The aqua Spartan put a fist in the air and whooped, "Ohhh, snap! Two points!"

At the same time, Simmons doused the other Elite with bullets before it could charge at him. As Doc scuttled over to treat the Bravo leader, Simmons said assertively "Man, these guys are easy! I can't believe we were scared of them."

"Don't get cocky, son," Sarge strolled up to them, tossing a grenade over his shoulder as he went and blasting away what's left of the Flood, "These ain't the biggens I've been talking about. You'll see what I mean when we make it to the labs."

At this statement, the Alpha leader did a double take, "Labs? You guys aren't planning on going into the research labs, are you? That's suicide!"

Church raised a hand, feeling he's under enough pressure, "Look, I don't have to take this from you too. Just tell us where you keep Sheila."

"Sheila? She's in Dr. Pavlovla's office in Block C. But I wouldn't go alone if I were you. Their nest is in there."

Doc glanced up, "Nest?"

"Their brain form, I mean. They're guarding it pretty good," the Alpha leader added earnestly, "If most of us weren't hurt, we'd help with you on whatever it is you're doing."

Church shook his head, "That's okay. How 'bout you go to the central control room and make sure Area 51 is completely locked off from the public. That'll buy us some time. And while you're at it, find us a way outta here. We're gonna need an escape route."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Good thing Tex gave these Andys mobility, huh?" said Donut.

Grif concurred, "Yeah. Saves us from carrying them." The group strolled out of the white room and into the arsenal with the bombs rolling behind them.

Caboose looked about, "Do you hear a thumping noise?"

The others paused and listened. Sister murmured, "I don't hear-"

"Shh, shh," Caboose pressed a finger to his lips, "There it goes again."

"…"

Grif frowned, "Caboose, you're hearing things."

_**THUM!**_

All the lights went out in the entire facility. Now similar to the research labs, only the dim illumination from the sirens and wall panels provided them a fair share of visibility.

"…"

"…Scary…!"

"All right. Who turned off the lights? Donut, did you lean against the light switch again?"

"No."

"Then wha—OW! Fuck!"

"Bro, you okay?"

"Yeah. I just tripped over one of the Andys."

"Jerk."

"…Breath in…breath out…breath in…"

"Grif…? Grif?

"What is it now, Donut?"

"…There's, uh, some more r-red dots coming this way."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Crap," Church cursed at the sudden darkness, "Turn on your flashlights, guys."

Doc switched on the light on the end of his healing apparatus and said worriedly, "Do you think the brain form already got control of the facility?"

But no one answered him. Everyone's eyes were set on the entrance to the research labs. "So this is what caused that earthquake," uttered Simmons. Sector 5's impregnable gate was blown to pieces; by what, they're not sure. Whatever it was, it carved out a huge gaping hole large enough for even the biggest of the Flood to come through. With a nice, hard, nervous gulp from Doc, they ventured past the forbidding threshold and into the maw.

"Let's do this quickly and quietly, okay, everyone? We don't want to attract too much attention," Church directed.

"Don't tell us what to do, Blue. You just keep your own man in line," Sarge growled, then said to his second-in-command, "Simmons, watch my back."

"Yes, sir."

As they silently made their way down the passage, the company couldn't help but feel they were not alone. Every now and then someone would point a light at the darkest corners of the hall, just to be sure they're the only ones there.

When they arrived in the hall where the elevator is, Doc made a choking noise and covered his mouth, "Ohh…" Surrounding the elevator was a ghastly number of corpses. Resembling the work of a hell fiend, the bodies were so hideously mutilated in such a way that it almost seemed meant for a purpose, like as a grisly welcome mat for any fool who dare to trespass into this hostile lair. A warning sign, a point of no return.

Doc took out an inhaler and _**Kchh**_.

"Aw, shit, aw, ew, ew," the group stepped over the cadavers towards the lift, some more squirmy and repulsed than others. Suddenly, one of the corpses' hands seized Tucker's ankle.

"AHH!" he screamed and dropped his weapon; not being any more helpful, the other Spartans also freaked. The assailant, a human combat form, breathed a raspy moan and scrabbled its horrid, skin-stretched hands at the aqua soldier's leg. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Tucker clambered on Church's arm. Eyes shut and still screaming, Church fired at the unwanted surprise until it was dead once more.

"…Friggin'…!" Church panted as a shaken Tucker released his arm.

Sarge wheezed, hoarse from yelling, "That's right. The bastards can reanimate themselves if not properly disposed of."

The Blue leader whipped his head around to glower at the other leader, "Forgot to tell that tidbit of information, did ya? What else do we need to know?"

While the rest jabbered in the background, Simmons studied the panel on top of the elevator. It reads that the lift is currently on the last level, sub-floor 20. Simmons pushed the down button and, without delay, could hear the mechanical sounds of the elevator rising. As they waited, Doc glimpsed over his shoulder, his voice agitated, "Uhhm, guys? I know this really isn't a good time to whine, but I think something's been stalking us."

Tucker groaned, "Aw, man. Are you telling me there's mo—?" He abruptly clamped his mouth when they heard something unfamiliar slither close by. _Very_ close by. The Spartans wildly shined their flashlights everywhere. The pitter patter of claws reverberated around them.

"The walls, they're…moving!" Simmons gasped, aiming his flashlight at the hallway leading back to the gate. Sarge grimaced and loaded his shotgun, "It's not the walls…"

The jumpy Spartans reared up against the elevators doors, huddling together shoulder-to-shoulder with their guns at the ready. Simmons rapidly pushed the down button again and again.

There was a loud, deafening screech. A throng of brown spindly-shaped creatures sped along the walls and ceiling and voraciously lunged at them.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

At that exact moment, the elevator doors whooshed opened and the five soldiers toppled backwards into the lift and the doors punctually slammed shut on the creatures.

"…Whew!" the Spartans puffed in relief.

_**WHUNG!**_Claws instantly dented the door. One dent had the form of a face.

"Enhh…" the Reds and Blues sweatdropped and winced. Church kicked the 20th sub-floor button. As the lift began to lower, they can hear the squeaking of skin wiping off metal.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The situation is bad and could only get worse.

Sometime during the combat form brawl in the arsenal, Grif and Donut got separated from Caboose and Sister. The Andys have gone missing. And, for some strange reason, something is interfering with the com-network, messing up their radio transmissions, which rules out calling for help. In short…

"We're screwed," Grif stated flatly.

The two Spartans were standing in the middle of an intersection and Donut was busy checking out a directory. "Let's see…" he shined his flashlight at a small red star, "'You are here.' Cool. Now where's Caboose and Sister…?"

Grif tilted his head around and gave Donut a blank you're-a-retard stare, "It's a map, Donut. Not a GPS."

"Then why does it say we're right here?"

"That's because the architects who built this place put that star there, knowing you'd be there, so you wouldn't get lost."

"But how do they know I'm _here _here? I could be standing over here or over there while looking at the map."

"It's just an estimate, okay? They don't know your precise location! They're just guessing that you're in an area close enough to where you can read the map!"

"…Oh."

"Oh, gawd…**Why** am I here?"

Their voices apparently have reached the Flood's ears. A diverse pack of combat forms and carrier forms skulked for their direction. "Grif, I think they're back," Donut trembled when he saw the distorted shadows in the distance.

Grif briefly checked his ammo supply and grumbled, "Man, this is way too much work for me!"

The carrier forms waddled in first, provoking the soldiers to shoot them. Grif tossed a frag grenade in front of them, exploding and popping their bubbly tops. New infection forms flew out and rained on the two Spartans.

"EEEEEE! Ewwww!" Donut shrieked and flapped his arms in fright, revolted at the touch of something so unclean. Hastily, he drew up his gun and blasted as many as he could, "Go away! Go away!" While he was distracted, a Brute combat form stormed past the others and rammed the pink soldier full force into the directory, shattering the object like glass.

"Donut!" Grif moved to aid his comrade but was wrestled down by four human and Elite combat forms. In a frenzied panic, he blindly squeezed the trigger, spewing what's left of the magazine into the monsters. Before he could reload, one of the forms whacked the rifle out of his hands. He un-holstered his handgun, but another form pinned his wrist to the ground and freed his hold on the weapon. _Shit…!_

With their prey now powerless, the combat forms started to wale on him, beating and slashing his body to a bloody pulp. One of them tried to bite him but Grif luckily managed to kick the beast off him. Seeing that the pitiful human wasn't down for the count yet, the other two picked him off the ground and repeatedly bashed him against several columns. Unable to take anymore damage, the orange Spartan listlessly slid down a column and collapsed onto his side unconscious. The parasitic predators hungrily hovered above him; they gabbled unintelligibly and swatted each other, fighting for the meal they just earned. During their petty dispute, one of them unintentionally stepped on Grif's leg, crushing it beneath its heavy weight. The sound of bones crunching then brought the Flood's attention back to their prey, reminding them of their insatiable hunger. The combat forms gathered around him and contentedly began to feed.

Right when they're about to feast, though, a barrage of bullets and pulse shots broke through the scene. The projectiles tore the Flood to shreds, ridding the halls of the vile beasts. The Brute form, the last Flood alive, was chomping down on Donut's shoulder when Caboose came in and grabbed it by the top and bottom of its mouth and pried it off the pink Spartan. Making use of his awesomely abnormal strength, Caboose swung the creature around and around and hurled it through the ceiling.

"DON'T **EVER** MESS WITH LT. MCMUFFIN!" bellowed the Blue soldier, shaking a fist after it.

"Ugh…Ca…boose…?" Donut moaned.

Caboose whirled about and gasped, rushing to the Red's side, "Capt. Long John Silver, are you all right?"

Donut spoke in a hushed, faint tone, "I don't know. How do I look?"

"Err, kinda bad. You have red stuff all over you."

"…My life is flashing before my eyes. Look, there's me when I was a kid. Aww, I was so cute! Ooh…I should never have worn that dress to the prom…"

"That monster almost eat-ed you! It's lucky you're still alive!"

The pink soldier laid the back of his hand to his forehead, "…Oh…It's getting dark. Hold me."

Sister hurried over to Grif, slid onto her knees beside him and ripped off her helmet. She gently propped him up against the column and removed his helmet as well. "Dexter? Dexter! Dexter, c'mon, wake up, please!" she lightly shook him, patting his face, a hint of dread coating her voice, "C'mon, Dex, I promise I won't embarrass the family ever again! Please wake up, Dex! Wake up...wake up…"

But Grif didn't wake up. "…" Sister sat there with a vacant gaze, too shocked, too stunned to register the fact that her only brother is dead. She was well aware that, once they joined the army, there was a chance one of them could end up killed one day. She just never really thought of it happening so soon. Memories of their times they share together, happy or not, begin to swim through her mind. Reminiscing moments of her doing something that displeases him, moments when he called her stupid. But, even more so, the times in which he showed how much he cares, that he's willing to get off his lazy butt to protect her, and the times in which he saved her, whether from actual danger or simply from her fears. At last, her heart couldn't take it.

"DEXTER! DEXTER!" she cried, shaking him more harder now, tears streaming down her cheeks.

_It's useless…_

She pressed her head into Grif's chest and wept softly, "Big brother…"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: RESEARCH LABORATORY**

**: BLOCK C, OFFICE DIVISION**

"Okay. Sheila should be here somewhere, in the doc lady's office," Church said as they approached their destination.

"I-Is that all? D-Did you get rid of all the blood?" Doc whimpered as Simmons did his best to clean the crimson mess off the medic's back.

To their utmost disgust, the lift they rode in had _lots_ of foul-smelling bodies piled in it. For one, ONE, whole minute they were literally standing one foot in blood, gore, and vomit, the last a courtesy from Doc. If it weren't for the inappropriate cheery elevator music, half of the group would have gone into a nervous breakdown.

After that appalling event, they soon found themselves in a heavily infected zone. The labs were in complete chaos and the passageways were covered with miles of yellowish-brown, swollen barnacle-like spores. Often they would come across masses of Flood, all hoping to have a bite of flesh. Also, as it turns out, the spindly creatures, called stalker pure forms, they met upstairs mostly dwell with their other pure form relatives in the deep interior of the facility. Sarge believes it's because they want to protect the brain form. Church thinks it's because they know there are idiots ("…like us…") out there who are dumb enough to wander into their trap. Whichever the case may be, the Spartans know they won't have long until the Flood finds a way out of the facility.

The company trudged into the office section next to the labs. As expected, more bodies and Flood awaited them. Ranged forms attached to the ceiling launched a volley of spikes down on the humans. "Oh! Ow! Ouch! Fuck!" After taking a few hits, each ducked and rolled behind the cubicle walls and returned fire.

"Dadgum freaks! Why won't you just die?" Sarge repetitively fired shot upon shot on the spiky parasites, but every time he kills one, it would just revive again later. Tucker proposed aloud, "I think they're playing possum. Try shooting them when they're down."

The strategy worked like a charm. Nonetheless, even though the ranged forms are dead, they still have other things to worry about. A horde of combat and stalker forms bounded between the cubicles, carelessly knocking aside computers and office materials to reach their food.

As the soldiers attempted to hide and stand their ground, they caught sight of a person concealed behind a copier machine. Church whispered, amazed that someone is still alive and uninfected down here, "Matthias!"

Matthias, the tech who repaired Church's body, saw them and desperately scrambled towards them. But a swarm of infection forms came out from over a cubicle wall and ambushed the poor tech. Using a SMG, the panicked Matthias randomly shot everywhere but was inevitably engulfed by the enemy.

"Matthias!" Church went to save him, but Sarge grappled him back, "No! You can't do nothing, son! They got 'im!"

A horrifying transformation took place before their very eyes. An infection form had attached itself to Matthias and punctured into his spinal cord. "Ahh! No! No! Get off me-AHHH!" the tech cried out in intense agony. In a span of only seven seconds, his body morphed. Limbs and tissue bulging, face contorting, body convulsing. The inhuman overlapping of two screams. Matthias has become one of them.

"…!" the soldiers' faces were frozen in absolute fear. The combat form, what was once Matthias, rose up and slowly looked at them. The thing let out a mutant howl, alerting the other Flood forms of their position. Tons more were coming, and it quickly became clear to the Spartan unit that they were significantly outnumbered.

"Come on, in here!" Church, while shooting any incoming Flood, slapped the access pad of an office room and the door skimmed open. Following the Blue leader, they all stumbled into the room and the door closed and locked the monsters out. Surprisingly, the office was absent of Flood.

"Shit…!" they planted themselves on the floor, exhausted and traumatized. "Did you…Did you see that?" Tucker heaved, "That thing just…And that guy just…!"

Church breathed, comprehending his meaning fully, "Yeah…"

A grim silence followed. With his nerves still restless, Simmons got up and walked about the room.

"Well…" Doc tried to be optimistic, "At least we finally have a break, right?"

Tucker looked at him boringly, "'_We_'? You didn't do shit! All you did is run around with your arms over your head and squeal like a girl!"

"Exactly! I'm tired from all that running and screaming."

Then Simmons called, "Guys, I found the doctor!"

Centered in the back of the room underneath the large mahogany desk was Dr. Pavlovla. On the outside, she doesn't seem too bad, a few cuts and bruises here and there; but the look on her face, though, illustrated she was in a great deal of pain. One hand was clutching a near-empty pistol, the other draped loosely over her waist. Her shirt was torn from her chest down, revealing a giant purple bruise on her side. Simmons beckoned the medic, "Doc!"

Doc plopped beside Simmons and scanned Dr. Pavlova's wound. "Internal bleeding. She must've been slammed into something," Doc concluded.

"Can you heal her?" Simmons asked anxiously.

"I'm afraid not. She needs an operation, and quick. Otherwise, she'll die."

Church swore, exasperated, "Gosh, dammit!"

Sarge advised, "We could always kill her. Y'know, end her misery."

The cobalt soldier emphasized pointedly, "No."

"Unhh…" Dr. Pavlovla stirred, cracked opened her eyes and brought a hand to her head. Simmons eased, discouraging her movement, "Don't move. You were injured pretty badly."

The doctor chuckled weakly, "No shit."

Doc sighed, disappointed at her use of profanity, "Oh, no. They influenced you too."

"All right, I gotcha," Simmons carefully slipped his arms under her and hauled her out from under the desk.

"Wait…Here," the doctor extracted a new data chip from her coat. Church took the chip and examined it, "Is this…?"

A holographic image flickered above the chip's surface. A female A.I. with the identical manifestation of Dr. Pavlovla shimmered into view. "Hello. My name is Sheila."

"Sheila?" the Spartans gawked.

The A.I. smiled up at Church, "Oh. Hello, Private Church."

"Sheila…! Y-you look like…!" he stuttered. Sheila understood, "…the doctor, yes. I was designed to take after the appearance of my creator, my mother, Dr. Phyllis Pavlovla."

Church comically dropped his jaw, "_Phyllis?_"

It was Dr. Pavlovla's turn to smile, "That's right, Church. Sheila's original name…used to be 'Phyllis', my name…until _you_ changed it during one of your time-traveling sprees."

"Uhh, guys? Sorry to interrupt, but…" Tucker thumbed at the door, which was being raucously pounded on by the Flood, "…we gotta go."

After Sheila's hologram disappeared, Church inputted the data chip into Simmons's helmet, speaking as if ordering rather than requesting, "Hold Sheila for me, will you."

Simmons sputtered, his face flushed, "Ah…ah…Hey! Why do _I_ have to hold the mother AND the dau—Whoa." A cool tingling sensation of a mercury-like liquid flowed into the base of the maroon soldier's implants. Inside his mind, Simmons could hear Sheila's voice, _**"Good evening, Private Simmons. It's nice to be working with you again."**_ The only thing the overwhelmed Simmons could say is, "U-Uhh…"

Tucker complained, "Hey, how come _he_ gets to have the naked chick in his head?"

"Because I know you'd want a naked chick in your head," Church said bluntly, then switched his attention on the door, "Now. How do we get outta here?"

"Ohh, I don't wanna go through that gauntlet of death again! My throat's still sore from screaming," Doc fussed.

"_**There's no need. Area 51 is built with a teleportation grid much like the ones on the Halos. I can use it to transport you. However, the process requires an excess of energy. I can borrow the energy from your suits, but I suggest we only do this once."**_

"Fine. Let's just go!" Simmons said readily, eager to leave.

Tucker intervened, "Hold on. We still have to pick up Sister and the others."

Church added, "And we have to bomb the facility."

"_**I'll take you to your friends, and contact the Andys."**_

"Thanks, Sheila. Man…I never thought I'd be so happy to see the A.I. that killed me."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Sister? Sister, come on. We have to go find the Andys. We told everyone we'd watch them, remember?" No matter how many attempts he did, Caboose just couldn't coax the yellow Spartan to let go of her brother. "Gruf wouldn't be happy if you stay here and go to sleep with him. If you like, I'll carry him until he wakes up."

Something snapped inside Sister. She got up in his face and shouted furiously, "MY BROTHER IS **NOT** ASLEEP, MORON! HE'S DEAD! OKAY? DEAD!"

Caboose blinked, glimpsed down and twiddled his fingers awkwardly, "…Mommy used to tell me to not feel bad when someone dies because they will be happy in heaven. So Gruf is sure to be happy too." Sister stared at him for awhile, feeling somewhat comforted by his kind words, "…"

"I dunno. I'll probably be happy, but I'm not sure everyone else in heaven will…"

Sister spun around and saw Grif and his ever sarcastic, lopsided smirk, "Dexter! You're alive?"

Grif pat his amazingly healed leg, "Yeah, it's a miracle, huh? This weird foamy stuff in my armor saved my life. Except it felt really cold though—Agh! Sis, what're you—?" Catching him off-guard, she glomped him.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" she sobbed.

Despite being taken aback by her uncharacteristic manner, Grif smiled anyway, "Kaikaina…"

**POW!**

"Ow! Geez! What was that for?" Grif cried, massaging his arm.

Sister chewed him out, arms folded, "That was for being such a faker! I can't believe you made me worry like that! Bitch."

Donut randomly encouraged, "You go, girl!"

A growing skittering noise brought their actions to a halt. The foursome gazed down all four of the intersecting hallways and saw waves of inbound Flood in each.

"Aw, hell, I should've died," Grif muttered under breath.

"I should've stayed in Iowa," Donut chipped in miserably.

As the other Spartans reloaded their weapons, Grif tapped Caboose's arm, "Hey, dude. Do me favor and get me my pack of cigs over there. I wanna at least get stoned before I die…for real."

The Blue retrieved the cigarette pack and handed it to the orange soldier. Grif lit one and puffed out a cloud of smoke, "Ahh, yeah. That hit the spot." Sticking the cigarette between his teeth, he then charged his gun, rose to his feet, and stood back-to-back with the other three Spartans, speaking with resolve, "'Kay. If we die, we die like losers."

Donut sweatdropped, "That wasn't very inspiring."

"Eh, who cares? Speeching ain't my crap style."

When the Flood came within shooting distance, the Reds and Blues let loose a torrent of energy blasts and 7.62mm slugs. The parasitic vanguards of each passage went down in a heap but were swiftly replaced by more. Eventually, after clearing a good number of the Flood, the humans ran out of ammo.

"Well. This is it. Any last words?" Grif glanced at his comrades as the Flood closed in on them.

"I wish I had a chance to go on a date with that Tucker guy."

"Forget it. He's a pervert."

"I wish I had the chance to watch the end of _Will & Grace_."

"And I wish Church and Tucker were here."

On cue, Church, Tucker, Sarge, Simmons, Doc, and Dr. Pavlovla materialized beside them. Caboose's face brightened, "Church! You're here! And Tucker to—why are you all black?"

Tucker looked down at his used-to-be-aqua armor in disbelief, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me! Even with that mode of teleportation?"

"Thank God! Fresh air!" Church casually removed his helmet. It was then he noticed the change in scenery (no arsenal), the surrounding Flood, and the mussed up Spartans. He turned to the dark blue Spartan and demanded, "Caboose…What happened?"

"Umm, well…While you were gone, we kinda sorta got attacked by these monster things and kinda sorta got separated," Caboose murmured ashamedly, then said in a positive voice, "But we found each other!"

"And where are the Andys?" Sarge eyed him suspiciously.

Caboose swallowed uneasily, "We, uh, we kinda sorta, uh…"

Donut assisted him, "We lost them."

Sarge and Church exclaimed, "_What?_" Church quietly buried his face in one hand. Whereas Sarge rounded on one particular soldier, who, in his opinion, is the sole reasonable cause to this blunder, "Grif…"

"What did _I_ do?" the orange Spartan cried, though half-expecting the blame to fall on him.

"_You_ were supposed to watch them!"

"But everybody else was watching them too!"

"I've put you in charge!"

"No, you didn't! You put Donut in charge!"

Church threw up his arms, stressfully gripped his hair, and yelled at the top of his robotic lungs, "SHUTUP! SHUT-UP! DAMMIT, I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT ANYMORE! I MEAN, FRIGGIN'—AWHHH, I NEED TO SHOOT SOMETHING!"

He suddenly paused, then craned his head to the side and glared dangerously at the Flood.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	8. ESCAPE

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 8: ES-CAP-E_

**: AREA 51, MARS**

They didn't stand a chance. Guns shooting, fists flying, and long strings of curse words uttered at super-angry-fast-speed, Church was single-handedly pwning the Flood.

"Daaaayum!" Tucker whistled.

"The anger…" Caboose awed.

"Hey. Why didn't he fight like this when we were in the labs?"

"Perhaps he wasn't angry enough…Or he's just started PMSing right now."

"…Dude, only girls get PMS."

"No way…! Are you saying Church is really a _girl_?"

"…"

"…"

"Caboose?"

"Yes, Tucker?"

"Don't talk to me anymore."

Simmons then called to their attention, "Hey, guys, we can't hang around too long. Dr. Pavlovla's beginning to cough blood all over me. We gotta take her to the infirmary—"

But Dr. Pavlovla interrupted, despite her deteriorating condition, "No…The infirmary's overrun by Flood…Destroying the facility is…our number one priority now."

Sister reminded, "But we lost the Andys."

"_**I've managed to contact the Andys and sent them to the weakest points of Area 51. Soon they'll be ready for detonation."**_

Sarge hollered to the frenzied Blue leader, "You hear that, Blue? Sheila's already talked with the Andys! She says they're okay!"

"Wha? Really?" Church immediately stopped fighting. One last armless combat form moved to jump him but was met with a sucker-punch in the face.

Grif queried as the cobalt soldier shoved his helmet back on, "What have those bowling balls been doing anyway? I mean, where did they go?"

"_**They said that, when the arsenal was razed, they got scared and just fled."**_

"Afraid? They're bombs! The Flood can't infect them…Can they?"

The Spartans glanced at each other, uncertain of the answer, until their radios beeped. The Spartans attempted to respond, but their communication lines were still muddled. Church turned to the A.I. in Simmons's head, "Sheila, our radios aren't working. Can you find a way to patch us through?"

"_**The Flood's brain form is interfering with the com-network. I'll see what I can do."**_

After a couple moments, a fuzzy transmission came over their radios. **"Yello. Yello. Come in. Yello. Anyone there? Anyone ALIVE, that is?"**

"It can't be. That sucker's not dead yet?" Sarge said incredulously. Church replied to the call, "Vic, is that you?"

"**Hey, hey! Church, my man! Wuzz goin' on?"**

"Nothin' much, except being nearly consumed by aliens," the Blue leader brushed aside Vic's mundane question and inquired, "Where are you?"

"**In the transport bay. Security systems have shut down the teleporters, so the army's rounding up any survivors left in the building and plan to leave by ship. And there's this dude here that told me to call you."**

Relief washed over Church, recalling his previous actions, "That's right. I've set up an escape route for us. Thanks, Vic!"

"**No problemo, amigo. Hasta."** And the feed was cut.

Heading down one of the intersecting corridors, Church motioned to the others, "C'mon. We're getting the hell outta here." To the Spartans, it was like the first good news in hundreds of years.

"Finally! I'm getting claustrophobic in here," Grif exclaimed.

Sarge sighed, "Never thought I'd live to see the day when Vic does something useful."

As the company of Reds and Blues marched to freedom, Doc mentioned, "Hey…whatever happened to that brain form anyway? I don't think I ever saw it when we were down in the labs." Certainly not interested in the welfare of some freaky monster, the others shrugged and thought nothing of it.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: BASEMENT, BELOW SUB-FLOOR 20**

The steady hum of Area 51's power generators was like a soothing lullaby, a tranquil pond of flowing water bouncing against vast walls of shimmering glass and steel. For Preston, however, his world was nothing. All he could hear was an infinite buzzing in his head.

For the past two hours, he was alone. Frightened, cold, straining for a taste of that sweet air. Bit by bit, the "other", the parasite infesting his body, would pilfer his memories and exploit them for its own use. Already he has forgotten his childhood; already he has forgotten the family waiting for him back home. It took every ounce of his strength to hold what few memories he had left. Just his name, his military rank. Recent recollections of a woman named Pavlovla and her Spartans, the people whom he struggled all this time to protect, retaining as much Flood in the heart of the facility as possible. And for what reason, he did not know.

For the past two hours, he was Captain Jacob Keyes. And soon he will be no more.

…_I…I can't let "it" have them…I can't…_ The buzzing grew louder. The memories slipping faster. _…No! No more time…Please hurry…Leave now! Leave before…before…_ Just a name, just a rank.

_I am Lt. Ryan Preston…I am Lt. Ryan Preston…I-I am…I…I am Ryan Preston! I am Ryan…Ryan…I am…I am…_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The farther and farther the Spartans traveled from the center, the less dangerous and less often the Flood showed up. They figured it is because the ONI forces and the Flood had trashed each other so bad that there is now very few opposition left to contend with, which is kind of a good thing for the Reds and Blues. Nonetheless, just because there are less Flood, doesn't mean they can let down their guard. At least, that's what a soldier should think like.

"Ahhh," Grif yawned and stretched and smacked his lips, scratching his chest lazily, "Are we there yet?"

"All right. More ammo," Sarge klept some shells from the random dead lying scattered in the halls. Donut, now finally healed by the bio-foam in his suit, reproached his superior officer, "You shouldn't steal from the dead, sir. It's disrespectful!"

The sergeant raised an eyebrow while sliding the new rounds into his shotgun, "Donut, in life-and-death situations like this, would you really prefer being buddies with these boys in the afterlife, or chance disrespecting a few dead people?" Donut blinked for a couple seconds, glimpsed down at the bodies, and then scooped up some ammo as well.

Fifteen minutes passed and the group still hasn't located the transport bay yet. Aside from this, whenever Dr. Pavlovla goes silent longer than two minutes, Simmons would worry and stir up a little chat between them. In one instance, he asked about the team that accompanied her when they went to retrieve Sheila. "They're dead…the Flood infected them all," she said with glassy eyes, her voice frail, "Preston saved me…killed the combat form that injured me…Before he was taken, he pushed me into my office and locked the door…I shall never forget his bravery."

Overhearing the conversation, Church gazed downward. _I know I hated the bastard, but…_

"Church?" Tucker spoke up, "You sure we're going the right way?"

"Huh?" the cobalt Spartan abruptly awoke from his daydream, "Y-Yeah, of course I do. The doc lady gave me a map, remember?"

"Then how come we walked past that mark three times just now?"

The aqua soldier was right. On a bench, they saw a familiar X-shaped blood splat. Everyone looked at the bewildered Blue leader. "Are you reading that map upside down or something?" Simmons frowned.

Church retorted, "How could I be reading it upside down? The map is automatically set with North pointing at the top."

Caboose suggested, darting his wary eyes from side to side, "Maybe the walls are _moving_…and making us walk in circles!…Which are actually squares!"

Now everybody is staring at Caboose. Grif said sardonically, "OR there's a rip in the space-time continuum that's keeping us from leaving this section. I think the only way to break through it is to hold your ankle with one hand and pat your head with your other hand while hopping around like a retard." As Grif had spoken, Caboose began patting his own head and hopping around on one leg.

Church promptly faced the others, ignoring his gullible comrade, "Anyhow, I think the map's compass was busted during one of our fights and making us come back to the same place."

"Like a circular square!"

"Shut up, Caboose."

Tucker scoffed, "Pff. 'One of our fights'? You literally jumped into—"

Church talked over him impatiently, "Okay, fine! Probably during MY fight. But that still doesn't change the fact that we're lost."

"_**Don't worry. My navigational system will lead us to the ship."**_

"If you had that, why didn't _you_ lead us instead of letting us follow the Hulk over there?" Grif questioned, gesturing towards Church, who in turn looked indignant.

"_**You never asked."**_ Grif muttered something about 'smart-ass computers.'

"Well, thanks anyway, Sheila," Simmons spoke with appreciation, "You know, you've been really helpful since you came back."

The amiable A.I. beamed inside his head, _**"After the events at Blood Gulch, Dr. Pavlovla allowed me access to the UNSC's records to gain more insight on military tactics and human culture. With the new information I've learned, I wish to assist my friends in any way possible."**_

Suddenly, their radios crackled and the jumbled rude voices of the Andys spilled through, **"Yo, lady! We're ready for countdown! Oh, hey, lemme do it! 10, 9, 8—"**

"H-Hey! No, not yet!" Church hastily shouted. Sarge barked along, "We need to escape first, ya zealots!"

"**Aw-haw-haw-hawww, frickin' whiners! Can't we just bomb 'em? Nah, Sheila'll defuse us if we try. That sucks. Well, she can kiss my—If you had one."**

"_**Not only can I defuse you, but I can also cut off your vocal processors as well."**_

"**A'right, a'right. We get it. No blow 'til they say go. Ugh, the suspense is killin' me! Hurry up! Hey, Bobby, why're you so quiet? Bobby…?"**

Sheila calculated the time and distance required to reach the ship, _**"Ten minutes should be more than enough."**_

Just then, a huge explosion went off somewhere, violently shaking the building. The Spartans braced themselves against anything solid and whirred their heads about, "Wah! What the—?" The Andys clamored in distress through their radios, **"NOOOO, BOBBY!"**

"What's going on?" Church yelled in confusion. Sheila exclaimed, shocked that she didn't catch this beforehand, _**"An Andy was infected by the Flood! They may have accidentally set it off!"**_

"**I can't believe it. They blew him up and he wasn't even mentally there to see it! Poor Bobby…That's it, you ugly little shits! You're goin' down!"**

The A.I. urgently informed her host, _**"We only have 9 minutes. Get us out of here!"**_ When Simmons hesitated, she stressed harder, _**"Now!"**_

He then nodded and told the others, "C'mon!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Vic yelped and shielded his head as electrical sparks crackled above him. The ONI Alpha leader ordered civilians to board the Albatross heavy dropship, a transport bigger than the Pelican, and prepare for departure. In the meantime, the armed forces hurriedly piled together sandbags and debris to create a makeshift barrier. "Guard the door! Don't let them get in!" The door to the transport bay shuddered as pale wrinkled fists pounded on it relentlessly, bending the metal inward. Some soldiers fortified the door with the remnants of storage containers and a Ghost.

"It's not enough…" a soldier murmured to his friend, both hiding behind sandbags, "They're coming."

A hand punched a hole into the battered door and a grotesque mouth snarled through it. The Alpha leader thrust the barrel of his M90A into the combat form's open mouth and pumped it with lead.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The explosion triggered another series of alarms. Only this time, the computerized warnings sounded much more critical. Emergency doors began to slam shut, locking off all sections inside the facility, including the garage the Spartans just entered. "Ohh, now what are we gonna do?" Doc wrung his hands as the wide iron door closed on them.

"_**Simmons, that tank!"**_ The maroon soldier spun sharply to his right and saw a M808 Scorpion tank lying on its side in a ditch. "Caboose! Gimme a hand with this!" Simmons summoned the Blue and both soldiers heaved the tank back onto its treads.

Astonished, Grif gawked, "Simmons, since when have you gotten so strong?"

"I'm a cyborg, duh!" Simmons helped Caboose into the driver's seat, "Do your stuff, Caboose. Here, Sheila." Shifting Dr. Pavlovla into one arm, he extracted the data chip from his helmet and inserted it into the tank's computer.

"Hello, Sheila! Mmn, this brings back memories, doesn't it?" Caboose trilled merrily. Knowing they're pressed for time, Sheila dismissed him, "We'll talk later, Caboose. Firing main cannon!"

The door was blasted apart and, naturally, a surge of Flood came sweeping in. "Everyone on the tank!" Sarge commanded and the Spartans hitched a ride of the tank's sides.

"Firing main cannon! Firing main cannon!" The crunching of bones and squishing of tissue rose from underneath the tank's treads. Caboose then drove them out of the garage and into a humongous corridor, where they conveniently discovered more Flood blocking their path.

Sister alerted, "Watch the little guys!" Miniature infection forms scuttled for them. Sheila pegged each of the pests with her machine gun. "Get the ranged forms!" the company aimed their weapons at the protruding partitions and pelted the spiked parasites until they dropped dead. While they were preoccupied, a stalker form pounced onto Doc.

"ARGHHH! HELP MEEE!" the medic cried, flapping his arms in terror. Sister struck the stalker with the butt of her rifle and sent it over the edge.

Doc sighed, relieved, "Thanks! I owe you one." Just as he ended his sentence, a combat form jumped Sister from behind, "Uh?—Ahh!" Before it could even touch her, a gunshot rang out and the beast's skull was completely blown away.

Grasping the tank's cannon, Tucker swung in and booted the headless torso off the vehicle and straight into another stalker. He lightly landed in front of her and cast a smug grin, "Told you I'd protect you."

Sister returned the smile, "Heh. I guess that means I owe you one too, huh?"

Tucker bestowed to her a sly look, "With interest." But the sight of an inflamed Grif cocking his gun swiftly extinguished the womanizer's plot.

They soon approached an unbelievably lengthy bridge spanning over an immense chasm. "4 minutes!" Sheila announced, "We need to go faster!"

Sarge searched the area and found three Warthogs. He did a hand signal, "To the Warthogs!"

Grif pointed at the jeeps, "You mean those Pumas?"

"GRIF…!"

"Okay! I'm going."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Unfortunately, that one blast from the infected Andy had caused a chain reaction among other Andys nearby, gradually enveloping parts of the facility with bubbles of fire.

_Come on, come on! Where are they?_ The ONI Alpha leader did his best to keep the Flood from overtaking the ship, but exhaustion dulled his senses and fatigue attacked his systems. Several wounds coated his body and he was running low on ammo. And to add to his troubles, the number of Flood was growing ever still. A corporal tapped his shoulder, "Sir, we have to go. Sir? Sir?"

He chuckled faintly, quickly becoming aware of the truth. _So this is it for me, eh? This is it for me…_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"SON OF A BIIIIIIIIIII—!"

The Spartans' Warthogs zoomed over a gaping hole at the end of the bridge and bounced onto the platform. Flames started to consume the other side of the bridge.

"Fucking Dukes of Hazzard, yeah!" Grif roared, temporarily releasing the wheel. With Dr. Pavlovla resting uncomfortably in his lap, Simmons reproved his friend, his voice high with fright, "Grif! Keep your hands on the wheel!"

"Whoa," the orange Spartan gave the 'Hog a jerk to the left, barely missing a wall. In another jeep, Doc puked over the side as they zipped into another corridor. The medic groaned and mopped his mouth with a moist towelette, "Urmghh. I'm gonna dehydrate…"

Sheila shouted in Simmons's ear, _**"1 minute!"**_

Sister stood up in the side seat beside Sarge and hung onto the edge of the jeep's windshield, "Awesome! There's the ship!"

"Down, soldier!" the Red leader snatched the yellow Spartan's wrist and yanked her back down just before a cascade of pulse shots could hit her. The Flood had obliterated the transport bay's door and were engaged in a ferocious fight with the ONI forces. Half of the remaining troops were already dead or wounded. Adorned with a new eye-patch, the Bravo leader glanced up and saw the straggling Spartans, "Where the hell were y—? Never mind, get on the ship! Men, fall back!"

The Reds and Blues drove their vehicles into the three adjacent hatches of the dropship's cargo tray. The Bravo leader and his rag-tag platoon made a mad dash for the ship, the Flood right on their heels. Some combat forms almost nailed a retreating soldier but were torn asunder by the Warthogs' machine guns.

"Eat lead, zombies!" Donut yelled as he and his fellow Blood Gulchers scoured the bay clean of the hideous monsters, defending the ONI guard while they climbed in. _**"5 seconds!"**_

The Bravo leader called to the pilot, "Go, go, go!"

The Albatross sealed its hatches, lifted into the air, and took off. Tremendous fiery explosions encased the dying facility, its reddish ambers close to touching the dropship's tail. An aftershock followed, giving the craft a final vigorous shake. "Hold on!" the pilot flipped a few buttons and switches and pulled back the wheel. Riding the wave, the Albatross kicked a burn and shot out of the Martian atmosphere, soaring into the depths of space and toward the stars.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: AFRICA, EARTH**

**: VOI, KENYA**

The slimy, pulsating walls provided the Covenant ship's interior the image of the inside of an alien creature's belly. Goopy brown fluid dripped from the ceiling and soft substances depressed beneath Master Chief's feet as he stepped into the central chamber. _If what those Elites said was the truth, then Cortana must be here! _He focused his gaze on a small distinct device settled innocently on a dais in the middle of the room. Moving forward for a better look, he recognized the device as a Covenant handheld memory unit. _Is this…?_ He drifted his hand across the unit and a distorted image instantly materialized into view.

"Chief!"

The mere sight of his A.I. companion made his heart skip a beat, "Cortana?"

Coming from her end, though, he was greeted with a less than happy response. Her words charged through, objective and oddly rushed, "_High Charity_, the Prophets' holy city, it's on its way…" Cortana's projection flickered and vanished.

"Cortana!" Master Chief called out. His precious scant moment with the A.I. was infringed by the purring of a Phantom's gravitic drive. Instinctively priming his MA5C, he located the noise from above and was surprised to see the blue cubic form of 343 Guilty Spark.

"Reclaimer!" the Monitor floated down to the Spartan's eye level. The growling of a Flood combat form loomed behind the Chief and Guilty Spark curtly zapped it to a crisp. As Master Chief took a glimpse back at the scorched carcass, the Monitor zeroed its energy beam on the memory unit. Witnessing this from the corner of his eye, a cool rage flared from within the Master Chief and he grabbed the intrusive A.I., pushing it away as hard as he could from Cortana. But Guilty Spark persisted, "We must act quickly, before your construct suffers any further damage!"

Wrenching the Forerunner construct off the device, Master Chief glared menacingly into its central eye, "Leave. Her. Alone."

Guilty Spark stated with composed imperativeness, "If we do not take this device to a safe location, somewhere I can make repairs…" It continued interfacing with the memory unit, but was tugged off once more by the Chief, who protectively clutched the unit in his hand.

"On Halo, you tried to kill Cortana. You tried to kill _me_," hissed the Spartan.

"Protocol dictated my response! _She_ had the Activation Index, and _you_ were going to destroy _my_ installation. You **did** destroy my installation. Now, I only have one function: to help you, Reclaimer, as I always should have done."

Master Chief glowered quietly at Guilty Spark for awhile. In spite of the adverse past he and the Monitor shared, the Chief figured that if the construct still wanted to kill him, it would have done so by now. _Forgive me, Cortana. _Reluctantly offering the unit to the blue cube, a pang of regret wrought the Spartan as he watched Cortana being taken away from his hand.

The Phantom projected a Gravity Lift and Guilty Spark was taken up into the aircraft, along with an uncertain Master Chief.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: SPACE, ENROUTE TO EARTH**

"No Flood?" the Bravo leader hovered over the pilot's left shoulder, the same pilot from Blood Gulch.

"Negative. We're clear, sir."

The Bravo leader exhaled, "All right. Take us to Earth. We need to report this to HighCom."

Meanwhile, in the back of the ship, the Spartans were doing all they can to make the doctor feel comfortable. Her body was reclined onto some blankets and pillows, and Doc brought out his medical tools and a First-Aid kit to alleviate any pain she happens to endure. Nevertheless, they knew the inevitable was to come.

"Why are we putting so much effort into taking care of someone who had just thrown us into hell?" Grif griped.

Tucker sided with him, "Yeah, and she's about to die anyway. Usually whenever one of us is dying, nobody really cares."

"I care," Caboose contradicted.

Church crossed his arms, replying to Grif's query, "Don't ask me. Simmons is the one with the 'touchy' feelings."

"I am NOT sentimental," Simmons denied while opening a can of ointment, "I just thought that, well, if it weren't for her, y'know…we all probably wouldn't have met."

"…" they all stared at him.

Without missing a beat, Church looked at Dr. Pavlovla and said, "I hate you."

The doctor laughed, "I can't blame you, Church. Lots of what I've done has caused more harm than good." Her laughing had suddenly changed to coughing. Blood dribbled over her lips. Doc went to help her, but she held up a hand, "No. No, it's no use. I'm dead anyway. But…" She pushed herself into an upright position; Simmons adjusted the pillows to cushion her back. "…There's something I have to tell you, before I go…"

She tilted her head toward Church, "Remember when you asked me why I told you everything about Blood Gulch?" The cobalt soldier bowed his head awkwardly, unable to stand her piercing green gaze. "Well…I told you because…I felt guilty."

"Guilty?" Church repeated.

"But when we first met, you were totally giving us the cold shoulder," said Doc.

"I thought you didn't care about us," Donut chimed in.

Dr. Pavlovla confessed, "I had to act professional. I apologize if I seemed apathetic. But I won't say I was…_glad_ to see you at the time either. I was still feeling a little disappointed then."

Taking note of their puzzled faces, she asked them, "Do you know of Master Chief?" When they nodded, she resumed, "Well, like you, he's a Spartan, but from a different program. They call it the SPARTAN-II Project, headed by Dr. Catherine Halsey. It produced super-soldiers through biological augmentation. You may have noticed that the Chief is faster, stronger—"

"You don't have to say the third part. We get it," Sarge interjected.

"Anyway, the SPARTAN-II Project was a success. Jealous of Dr. Halsey's work, I decided to also try my hand at glory. I told UNSC that I would create Spartans at a faster rate and with cheaper funding, to have soldiers ready on the battlefield sooner than it takes to train a Spartan-II. But that brings about the question of _who_ gets to be the candidates to this project. That is what carved the difference between the IIs and 2.5s."

The doctor took a deep breath, tired from her speech, then continued, "Master Chief never told you this, but when he was child, the UNSC kidnapped him and forced him to become a Spartan."

"WHAT?" the Reds and Blues cried.

"Why would they steal kids?" Tucker blurted out.

"That's like so wrong!" Sister supported.

Grif added, "Yeah. What do they expect the little midgets to do? Kids don't do anything anyway but play, whine, and stink!"

Simmons remarked, "Like someone we know."

"Good burn, Simmons," commended Sarge.

"Thank you, sir."

"Kissass."

Dr. Pavlovla went on, "I suppose they did this because it'd be easier to mold the training into their heads. But I couldn't bring myself to approve of such methods, so I enlisted willing ("Tricked." – Grif) adult candidates instead. Heh. To my surprise, I found my way far more difficult than Dr. Halsey's. Many of the adults were hard-brained, too used to the world they grew up in, not adaptable to super-soldier training or augmentation. Some of my subjects were successful, but the rest…"

When she reduced to a hushed whisper, they had to lean in to hear her speak, "After they pulled the plug on the 2.5 Project, I was, needless to say, furious. They told me the project was a failure and that they 'cannot afford to put anymore funding into these _Spartan rejects_'."

The doctor's hands were balled up into fists and her body shook with such loathing vehemence that Doc was afraid she might fall into a seizure. What Caboose said next, though, startled her out of her anger, "So, does this mean you hate us? For failing you?"

She elicited a quivering gentle smile, "No. I **was** disappointed before…but I can never, ever hate my Spartans. Although you are not heroes, you are my best."

A tear trickled down her beautiful face as she closed her eyes in shame, "I can't believe I brought you into this. I ruined your lives simply for my selfish wish for glory. I won't ask you to forgive me, but…" She brought a hand over her eyes, her heart distraught, "…Oh, God…I-I am sorry…I am so sorry…I…"

The Spartans stood there silently. In normal circumstances, they knew they wouldn't even care if some wuss was bawling on their knees. Typically, they would just be unsympathetic or poke fun at the poor wretch. But this lady was different. This lady actually _cared_ about them.

Church reflected stubbornly, _But she did this to us! Why should we care what the hell she feels? _He stared down at her crumpled injured form. _But…she looks so pitiful…I don'-I just don't get…How can she love a bunch of assholes?_

A thin moan came from the doctor as she slid to one side. Simmons and Doc caught her and laid her back against the pillows. Her breathing had become ragged and more blood oozed from her mouth and stained her front.

"_**Mom!"**_

Simmons stroked a hand onto a holopad and Sheila's hologram appeared on it. "Just hang on. We've almost reached Earth," the A.I. reassured her maker. However, Dr. Pavlovla was smiling, the life just about gone from her eyes. She gave the Reds and Blues one last look, "Please…take good care of my Sheila…Don't, don't let…unhh…" Her head lulled downward.

"Huh? Uh, wait!" Church took her shoulders and shook her a bit, "'Don't let' what? What were you trying to s—Hey, doc lady! Hey!"

"Church…" Caboose sounded like he was a mile away. Church glanced back at them, his hands still gripping Dr. Pavlovla's shoulders.

Then Tucker said in a hollow tone, "She's gone, man."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	9. The Ark, happy reunion

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 9: The Ark, happy reunion_

**: PORTAL, AFRICA, EARTH**

**: _SHADOW OF INTENT_, HANGAR BAY**

Master Chief and Commander Keyes observed Lord Hood's Pelican as it departs from the hangar's energy field. With the droopy silhouette arching out of view, key events replayed over and over through the Chief's mind.

"_Sir, with respect, Cortana has a solution."_

"_She could be corrupted for all we know. Her 'solution' could be a Flood trap."_

"_No! If your construct is wrong, then the Flood has already won."_

"_I'll find Cortana's solution. And I'll bring it back."_

"_Earth…is all we have left. You trust Cortana that much?"_

"_Sir. **Yes** sir!"_

"_This is either the best decision you've made or the worst."_

These gauzy visions faded from his eyes like playful apparitions, mocking his foolish decision of entrusting humanity's fate to a possibly rampant A.I. Was this choice wise? Leaving a vulnerable Earth to seek out some alleged solution? Yes, he told himself. This is Cortana. Never has his companion steered him wrong. On many occasions she has saved his skin and helped bust him out of any jam. During those times they have spent together, they have woven an unbreakable bond, a mystical trust between human and A.I. Their relationship is undefined, unusual; friendship perhaps? Or something more. Whatever it may be, he wasn't about to doubt her now. Not after all they've been through.

A stray thought then floated by and he inquired Keyes, "Any sign from the other Spartans?"

"Spartans?"

"The ones in red and blue."

The commander tightened her lips, her body language already giving away the coming of bad news. "I'm sorry, Chief. No contact, zero response on the radios," she murmured, "It's like they just disappeared."

Master Chief slumped his shoulders slightly, but not enough for Keyes to notice it. Attached to his armored hip, a forlorn maroon helmet swayed and bumped against his thigh._ MIAs…Just like everyone else. _Once again, he was alone.

Just then, something heavy hit and skidded across the ship's top. _**SKRRRRRRCHH…**_

Both humans and Covenant alike glanced about, assuming they were under attack. Sergeant Major Johnson chewed his cigar and handled his assault rifle, "The hell was that?" The soldiers nearly jumped when their radios emitted a flurry of grumbled swear words.

"—**Shit, man!"**

"**Suckass pilot."**

"**Ack! Caboose! You're standing on my neck!"**

"**Sorry!"**

"**Hey, shut up, guys! Um, uh, this is, this is Private Chur—"** Static disrupted the transmission.

Keyes talked through her COM mic, "Excuse me, who is this?"

"—**This is Private Church. Can someone please help us? We're kinda stuck up here."**

Johnson queried, "What's your location, soldier?"

"**Heh heh. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."**

Parked outside on top of the _Shadow of Intent_ was a beat-up and burnt Albatross.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Church and Tucker lugged Caboose out of the Albatross and unceremoniously dropped him on his butt. The blue soldier scurried around on all fours and hugged onto Keyes's legs.

"Bad driver. Baaaad driver. Landlandlandland…"

The sight of a scared, pathetic Spartan confounded the onlookers. Everyone, including Master Chief, had believed the Spartans as to be one of the toughest living war machines ever made. Despite the smear this act has caused on that image, the humans were at least relieved to see more Spartans marching down the ramp. As far as they were concerned, the more they have, the better.

"Who…? What…?" Keyes stammered and reflexively pulled away from Caboose. She glimpsed toward the other arrivals; with them was an influx of casualties. She made a few hand signals at her medical crew and they hurried over to aid them. She then looked to Sarge, who came up to her and saluted, "Might I ask what you have been doing, sergeant?"

"Fighting a Flood infestation on Mars, ma'am."

Johnson started forward, "The Flood? On _Mars_?"

"Yep. But we managed to exterminate them. I assure you the Red Planet's safe."

"I say we should get promotions and a long R&R for this," Grif declared.

Keyes heaved a sigh, not hearing Grif's comment, "That's good news, sergeant." Her face returned to its calm state and she spoke in her usual tone, "Take some time to recuperate. Afterwards, you and your men are to report to conference room B at 2200 hours. Don't be late." And she pivoted on her heel and went with Johnson to check on the wounded ONI soldiers.

Tucker exclaimed, "What's up with all the uptight chicks? Aren't there any nice girly girls in the military?"

A distance from them, Donut is seen sitting demurely on a crate, legs folded, while looking at his cosmetics compact and preening his hair.

"…Aside from Donut?"

A long shadow hung over the Blood Gulchers and a gruff voice accosted them, "So that's where you've been. Mars."

They turned and found themselves under the hawk-like scrutiny of the Master Chief. "Could've at least given me a warning," he grunted.

Church didn't understand what made him do it, but for some reason his rebellious mouth reacted faster than his brain. "Hey, we don't answer to you, all right? We take care of our teams, you just take care of…whatever people you have to take care of," he retorted, his comeback ending sloppily. Tucker sneezed a remark, "Smooth."

Master Chief stepped towards to the cobalt soldier, shrinking the gap between them down to 6 inches. This move alone reminded Church once more of the Chief's elevated stature. "We may not have been on the same team, _Church_," he purposely laid more emphasis on his name, showing a bit of annoyance at Church's cheek, "But pride isn't going to help us win this war. You did great on Mars. But to finish this fight I'm going to need your full cooperation." He looked down at his side and detached the maroon helmet from his belt. Holding it out for them to see, he muttered, "…I don't want to risk losing another family member."

Caboose sniffled, "Family? Ohh, that is one of the most nicest things anyone's ever said to me." When he bawled all the more, Church sweatdropped, "Don't cry too much, man. You'll drown in your helmet. Wait. On second thought, keep crying."

In the meanwhile, Sarge, Grif, and Donut inspected the Chief's memento. "Say. Isn't that Simmons's helmet?" Donut poked the visor. Sarge took it and raised it to the light, "Lemme see. Hmm. Mm-hm. Ooh. Yup, it does belong to Simmons."

"How do you know, Sarge?" Grif asked.

"'Cause it has screenshots of your naked sister."

"Whoo-hoo!" Sister whooped in the background.

"WHAT?"

"And of you flailing while falling down a hole. Ha ha ha. Good ol' Simmons."

"Why that nerdy little fuckstick. Where is he?" Grif scowled back at the ship.

"What do you mean where—? What are you talking about?" Master Chief questioned, perplexed by their dialogue.

"Don't try to rationalize the situation. It'll only make your head explode," Church said boringly.

Following the injured were the few dead that the ONI guard were able to scrounge up prior to escaping Area 51. Among them was the Alpha leader. A couple ONI soldiers patted a hand on the Bravo leader's shoulder as they strode past. Johnson shifted beside the Bravo leader, glanced down at the dead Alpha leader, then at him, "Friend of yours?"

The Bravo leader replied as he gazed at the body, his voice void of emotion, "Was."

Simmons came down slowly from the ship, cradling the departed Dr. Pavlovla close in his arms. Suddenly, Grif jumped out of nowhere and body slammed Simmons.

"AWGH! Grif! What the f—? I'm carrying a dead person here!"

"You're gonna wish you were dead, dipshit!"

A band of Elites watched the two imbecilic humans tussle about on the ground. "And to think we called them 'Demons,'" a blue one snorted derisively in their alien language. The others garbled in agreement, "_Wort wort wort_."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Keyes was not impressed. Trailing behind the line of Spartans and the ONI Bravo leader was a pair of nose-bleeding Spartans, who were courteously towed into the conference room by the Master Chief. Not what she imagined from the best of the human race.

Once they were seated, Doc handed each Red soldier a cotton ball to stem the bleeding. Grif wheezed and pointed, appearing more tired than Simmons, "Consider this…a draw."

Simmons cried, waving his reddened cotton ball, "Draw? I don't even know why I was attacked!"

"Don't play cute, shutterbug! Delete those screenshots of me and my sis! We're not up for your MySpace page!"

"Okay, one: I don't use MySpace. MySpace is an overrated website severely abused by uncouth pedophiles and the like. _I_ use Facebook."

Grif and Master Chief sidelong glanced one another, "…"

"Two: I'm not a shutterbug. Believe it or not, I was a professional photographer for two years. Until my license was revoked for capturing the Mona Lisa," Simmons paused, "…But you didn't need to know that."

Donut gasped, "A druggie AND a criminal!"

"I WASN'Tdoing drugs! How many times do I have to say it?" Simmons screamed, his face now matching the color of his armor.

Keyes placated the maroon soldier, "Calm down, Simmons." She surveyed the room and calculated the quantity of polychromatic Spartans. Counting them all present, she nodded in satisfaction, "It's good to see you all alive and well. I have summoned you here to update you on our current situation with the Covenant, and to be debriefed of your activities on Mars. But before this meeting goes on, let me tell you this, Spartans…" The commander leveled her serious eyes directly into theirs, "From now on, if able, you are to inform me or the Master Chief of your position on every mission. Understand?"

Sister whispered to Caboose, "Geez. Doesn't she sound like the doc lady? It's like they're related."

Caboose sniffed for a second time, "I miss the nice doc lady…"

"See, ma'am, that's the thing," Church spoke up, "We **couldn't** report our position. We were abducted by our _fellow_ humans and were teleported to another PLA-NET!" He glowered expressively at the ONI Bravo leader.

Everyone in the room looked to the eye-patched man in the black and white ONI jumpsuit. "Petty Officer 3rd Class Oliver Pyle," Keyes read his name aloud from a data pad, "If you may clarify this accusation." She laid the pad aside, rested her elbows on the obsidian oval table, crisscrossed her fingers in front of her mouth and gave him one of those "higher-up" stares. A ploy often utilized by NCOs when interrogating their suspects.

And right now, it's working.

Beads of sweat collected above Pyle's brow. Just earlier, he was overcome with grief. Now here he is struggling to find the words to speak, to defend his and his men's honor. He knew this matter would arise sooner or later, especially when their own test subjects have discovered the vile truth of their hell. He just didn't expect it to come so soon. Why Dr. Pavlovla had exposed ONI's secrets to the 2.5s is beyond him. What she has done may have seemed merciful to her, but the fact is—

A clearing of the throat from Keyes reined him back into reality, back to that suffocating conference room. His flustered thoughts aren't going to save him here. He has to say something, anything that could get him out of this mess. But what should he say? He's sure that any information he passes will undeniably spell out his sentence. He snuck a peek along either sides of the table, as if hoping to find the answer somewhere. The obstinate glares of his spectators told him, however, that no one here is his friend.

_Just play dumb. You're not a high ranking officer, you don't know squat. No secrets, nothing. You were just doing your job._

"Commander. I was only ordered to capture these Spartans," he gestured a perspired hand at the Reds and Blues, "My superiors never discussed their plans with me."

Church stood up in a flash, "Horseshit! Commander, this guy is a lying son of a—!"

Keyes talked over the Spartan, "Private Church, if you insist on staying through this meeting, I suggest you keep that foul mouth of yours shut."

"Ooh hoohoohoo. You got served," Tucker sniggered.

"Up yours, dickhea-I mean, yes, ma'am," Church checked himself when he saw the daring look on Keyes. The commander shook her head, and then concentrated once more on Pyle. She got up from her chair and leisurely rounded the table, drawing closer to her suspect. "Pyle. Let's put it this way. If you lie to me again, this could be your future: you'll probably be suspended from military service; certainly court-martialed; and most definitely detained for a very…long…time. Now…" she stopped by his side and came in for the kill, "Why did ONI abducted these Spartans?"

The petty officer gripped the arms of his chair. That wasn't an empty threat. And if she arrests him, more than likely she'll do the same to his men and one of them is for sure to spill the beans anyway. What would it be? Ten years for withholding information? Twenty more for illegal abduction? And for what? The project is dead, what's the point of going on?

He loosened his grip and exhaled. Defeated, he said at last, "Fine, okay. I'll talk."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: INSIDE SLIPSPACE PORTAL**

**: _SHRINE OF REPENTANCE_, BRIDGE**

His fury outweighs his shame.

The High Prophet of Truth was indeed disappointed in his failure (he was lucky enough to get away with 30 lashes), but not near as disappointed as he was. This close, _this_ close he was to killing a Demon. True, it was a pathetic excuse for a Demon, but a Demon nonetheless. It was his quarry, his prey! If it weren't for that cowardly sneak attack, he would've gotten dinner that day! Next time, though, that Demon won't be so lucky. Its entrails will decorate his mantel, and its head on a stick. This he swears upon his sword wound!

Cerberus stroked a huge clawed hand over the two scars marking his stomach. He stiffened his hand and pierced his nails into those scars until blood ran from it.

No one disgraces Cerberus and gets away with it. No one.

"Chieftain," a Brute hailed from his station, "We've arrived."

Cerberus rumbled, "Regroup us with the rest of the Fleet." He then crossed the bridge to analyze the expansive viewscreen. The moving white dots had slowed to a stop, the original forms of stars taking their place. Underneath them was a colossal structure shaped like a disc with eight curved limbs attached to its circular edge. Its terraformed surface gleaned a bright blue, welcoming its devout visitors to its treasured lands. Even the savage Jiralhanae Chieftain was enthralled by this divine spectacle.

"The Ark…"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: OUTSIDE MILKY WAY, UNKNOWN CONSTRUCT**

**: _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_**

He cursed. First it was the transport between the _Shadow of Intent _and _Forward Unto Dawn_, and now this. That slipspace jump nauseated him way worse than how the Marines described it. His gut was doing back flips and dizziness twisted his skull, an experience vaguely similar to when Sheila teleported them in Area 51. _Maybe I should check out the medical bay._ He moved to stand up, but flopped back down in on the bench. _After everything quits spinning._ So he chose to remain in that corridor until he recovered.

He sat there in silence. Contemplating about the almost-endless action he and his team had underwent in the last several hours, how the fear and adrenaline still rushed through his veins. The stench, the noises. The stickiness of blood. The death of that woman… He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. No doubt he's gonna be having nightmares for awhile. And with the anticipation of the upcoming battle, his stress level is multiplying tenfold.

How does the Master Chief do it? The guy seems so calm all the time, to the point that it becomes infuriating! During missions, in the line of fire, his appearance is always unperturbed. How _does_ he do it? If only he knew more about him, then…

"Hey." A knuckle rapped his helmet.

Without thinking, Church instantly rose from the bench, went for his sniper rifle and erratically took aim. A hand ensnared the long end of the rifle and directed it to the ceiling. Blinking twice, Church finally registered who his "attacker" was. It was the Master Chief.

"Not bad reflexes. Vigilance needs work though."

Church let out a breath and pulled the barrel from the Chief's hand, "What do you want…sir?" He added the honorific to avoid disrespect.

Unfazed by his attitude, Master Chief said, "Insertion begins in 15 minutes. Your TEAMCOM was off." A succinct, yet clear-cut explanation for his personal message delivery.

"Oh," Church switched on his radio. By the time he looked up, the Chief was walking away. _Wow, that guy's quick._ It was then he remembered a question he had for the big green Spartan. "Uh. Chief!"

Master Chief wordlessly stopped and turned.

"Is…Is it true, that UNSC kidnapped you when you were a kid?"

"…"

…_Oh, damn. Where did THAT come from? T-That was not the question! Aw, shoot, now he's mad. I bet he's gonna blast my head off. Or grind my bones to make his bread…Oh, that can't be right. Only ogres do that. I think._ "…!" When Master Chief advanced toward him, Church shielded himself with his arms and braced for impact.

"Yes, they did. Who told you that?"

Church cautiously peeped through his arms, "…?"

Throughout the meeting in the conference room, nobody said anything about Dr. Pavlovla's last confession. The Reds and Blues mutually believed they shouldn't share that touching memory between them and the doctor to anyone. A private memory they plan to keep in their hearts forever.

Still, he has to tell the Chief _something_.

Seeing it was safe, Church lowered his arms. "Dr. Pavlovla," he honestly answered.

Master Chief mulled over this for a second, then queried, "What else did she tell you?"

"Mnn, some more stuff on Spartan-IIs and something about 'Spartan-IIIs'…" He hoped this extra detail will lure the Chief away from the 2.5s and the doctor.

"Spartan-III's? You mean there's **another** series."

"Yeah, but she only mentioned them once. Said they were better than us," the cobalt soldier wrinkled his nose offensively.

Master Chief's response to this news was unreadable; of course, Church couldn't see past that polarized visor anyhow. Beneath that stony façade, though, he was overwhelmed. To start with, he had just learned of another batch of Spartans, the 2.5s, who were as different from him as white is to black. Now he is told that even more Spartans exist. But, if so many are around, why haven't he seen or heard of them yet? Is this another ONI cover-up?

"Why didn't you tell Commander Keyes this?"

"Err…Hey, wait a minute, what is this? 'Bitch Me 20 Questions'? I—" Church initially protested but stopped dead in mid-sentence.

Just like that, on the word "bitch", he then recalled an extremely important task he had to do. A special task he was forced to neglect during his time at Area 51. "Awww, crap," he slapped himself in the forehead, "Tex!"

"Tex?" Master Chief echoed, and belatedly saw the Blue's foot disappear around the corner, "Hey…!" _Huh. That guy's quick._

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Relaxing in the ship's medical bay, Doc hummed happily as he polished his medical instruments. A pair of curious young Grunts watched him when he took a sip from his antacid-fizzing drink. In their language, the crimson one gurgled, "What do you suppose he's drinking?"

"Uhh. It looks like water, but with pink fluffy stuff in it," the orange one speculated, "Poison maybe?"

The crimson Grunt whacked his cohort upside the head, "Stupid! Why would he be drinking poison? See, he's happy! Happy humans don't commit suicide!"

"I dunno. I heard of a human who was killed by Parasites and he was happy."

"He was in hysterics," the crimson Grunt muttered dully, then yipped, "Uh-oh. Where'd he go? Ohh, I think he saw us. Run!"

But Doc already had them in his grasp. "Hey, little guys!"

"Ahhhh! Demonnnn!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Commander!" Church hurried to bridge, "Commander, there's something I gotta…Whoa." His legs wobbled and he supported himself against a banister. His body was still under the effects of their slipspace jump.

Keyes, who was chatting with Johnson, glimpsed down at the Blue leader from the top of a small staircase. "What's that, Private?"

"Remember that evil A.I. I told you about? Well, he took some people, two aliens and a girl named Tex. Requesting permission to retrieve them, ma'am."

The commander deliberated this and said, "I'll send a search-and-rescue team on it—"

"Ma'am," Church fumbled up the stairs and straightened up before her, "Please. Tex…she's my girlfriend."

Keyes lifted her eyebrows in surprise, then smiled at him, an unusually generous move on her part, "Very well. But take someone with you, for back up."

"Thank you, commander," he saluted and spun around to head back to the hangar, but his foot caught his other ankle and made him trip down the stairs.

"Church!" both Keyes and Johnson shouted. From the bottom of the stairs they could hear him grousing. Johnson yelled, "You okay there, son?"

"Augh! Fuck! Dammit…!"

The sergeant major and commander looked at each other and said in unison, "He's okay."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Back in the hangar, the humans and Covenant were getting ready to depart. An Elite in blue armor clicked his mandibles guardedly, "I don't like it."

While swapping a used plasma rifle for a new one, his red companion inquired, "What's wrong?"

"That Demon over there," the blue one indicated the aqua Spartan on the other side of the hangar, "He's been staring at me."

The red Elite stifled a laugh, "Perhaps he finds an interest in you."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just heard that humans aren't particular in choosing their mates. Male, female," the red chortled, "Even animals and inanimate objects."

The irate blue Elite hissed, "That is not funny."

On the opposite end, sitting on a weapons cache, Tucker had his chin cupped in his palm and was gazing wistfully at the blue Elite. Caboose and Sister chirped from behind, "Done!"

"Your armor is now officially unblacked," Caboose affirmed, flourishing a dirty rag in triumph.

Tucker flinched at their sudden cries and faced them, "It's all gone?"

Sister replied, "Yeah, but your armor's lost its shine. You'll have to wax it."

"Uh-huh," Tucker said absentmindedly and continued gazing toward the Elites. Sister and Caboose pursed their lips and eyed him. "Is something wrong?" the yellow soldier asked.

"It's just that…," he mumbled, "…that blue alien looks like Junior."

His two Blue comrades tried to say some supportive words, but the blaring of a sergeant's mic smothered their voices.

"…**A'right, men, mount up! Let's go!"**

Slugging his assault rifle over his shoulder and sidearming his M6 pistol, an unenthusiastic Tucker traipsed toward a group of ODSTs leaping into a Pelican, complaining as he went, "Man, this blows. I'm lover, not a fighter."

"Um, T-Tucker? Oh…" Not able to console his friend, Caboose hung his arms loosely by his sides and made a tiny whine. Sister, on the other hand, yielded with a shrug, shouldered an overly-corpulent duffel bag, and followed Tucker. As she swept by the fitful blue Spartan, the bag bopped his elbow.

"OW!—chies!" Caboose yelped and rubbed his funny bone, "Sister, that mysterious thing in your bag hurted me!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: DESERT REGION, UNKNOWN CONSTRUCT**

"AHHH!" Simmons fell out the Pelican and into a sand dune, "Oof! …Fuck. More sand."

Grif gracefully landed beside him, "Ta-dah!"

His maroon comrade staggered onto his feet and shook the sand off of him, "Ugh. Getting some payback, huh?"

"I get what I can get. And guess who has a new desktop wallpaper?"

But Simmons wasn't interested in him anymore. He knocked on the side of his helmet, "Sheila. You okay in there?"

"_**Yes. No thanks to your friend."**_

"Way to go, Grif."

"Wha-? You still have Sheila?"

"No. I was just talking to myself. Of course I still have her."

"Weren't you supposed to give her to the commander?"

"I did. But Cmdr. Keyes said we were going to need her anyway to locate the Cartographer. After we told her we almost got lost and killed in Area 51, she figured we'd need someone with a sense of direction."

"But Sheila's an A.I.! A.I.s have loads of stuff on the UNSC! If the enemy gets their hands on her—"

"Uh, hello. The Covenant already knows where Earth is, and the Flood has that Cortana chick."

"I guess…"

"What're you two ladies doin'?" Sarge disembarked from the Pelican with Donut, "We're here to fight, not do lunch."

Donut pouted, holding up a Japanese style bento lunch, "But Sarge, it IS lunchtime! And I've put so much hard work in packing a meal for each of us."

The Red leader studied the box intriguingly, "Oh. Didja put sushi in mine?"

"With wasabi and Tabasco sauce, sir."

"And whadda 'bout one 'o them fortune cookie things?"

An ODST then beckoned the Reds from a ledge, "Hey, Spartans, come here!"

They ascended the sloping cliff path and clumped next to the ODSTs and Master Chief. Below their ledge was a crowd of gathering Covenant Loyalists. Sarge activated his TEAMCOM, setting it so he could solely interact with his Reds, "Let's get ourselves an angle. Respond only with your acknowledgement lights. That means zip the lip or risk being shot. Got it?"

Two timid seconds went by, then three green lights winked on his HUD. While they crept around the cliff edge, another ODST offered the Master Chief to take the first shot. Subsequent to the Chief's shot, everybody else opened fire. Red Team found themselves a neat little alcove among the rocks and blanketed a foursome of Jackals with a clip from each Spartan. As soon as the last enemy fell, Donut scampered down the cliff, collected the Jackals' force shields, and rejoined his team.

"Nice. These should give us more protection," Sarge strapped the shield onto his forearm, and then motioned them to the next tunnel, "C'mon. The others are leaving."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Seal off that area. We can't have them escape through there," Cerberus ordered his Unggoy.

Fortified inside the Cartographer building, the Covenant Loyalists plan to make their stand. The High Prophet of Truth, aware that his life is being sought out, charged the Jiralhanae Chieftain to ensure the stoppage of the blasphemous humans and their Demon. A mission of absolution. If he succeeds, his life will be spared and his sins forgiven. If not…

He shivered at the thought.

Just then, a Brute lumbered over to Cerberus, "Chieftain. Good news."

Cerberus craned his head a little to listen.

"They're here. _He's_ here!"

The Chieftain kept his eye on him, then brought his vision forward. Finding this action peculiar, the Brute soldier shuffled in his position to see his leader's face. And regretted doing so.

A broad toothy grin stretching from ear to ear, a paw clinching the hilt of an energy sword. The Chieftain was very pleased.

"And where, pray tell, is he…?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	10. Hurtin'

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 10: Hurtin'_

A squad of security personnel lurked in every nook and cranny of the _Dawn_'s hallways. They were searching high and low, looking out for that one fugitive that got away. Male, big eyes, short light brown hair, gray and yellow attire. Piece of cake, right? Well, it would have been…if it weren't for the millions of other crewman that looked just like him.

"Are all of these guys clones?" one security guard cried as a line of identical crewman ambled by him.

"Some are," another guard said, stopping each person to inspect their ID numbers, "Just get them to speak. The brass says he's the only one with an annoying voice."

_Fuck you, Darth Vader. _Vic stuck his tongue out and made a face, ridiculing the guard from behind a corner. When he saw a few other guards heading toward him, he strafed into a niche in the wall and held his breath, using a rack of crewman jumpsuits as camouflage. After the guards went past, Vic sighed. _If I keep hanging around, they're gonna catch me for sure. I gotta get off this ship._

"Psst! Hey!"

The radio support turned his head this way and that, "Huh?"

"Yeah you, blinky! Down here!"

Vic glimpsed downward and saw something concealed in a jumpsuit pant-leg. It rolled out and sneezed, going about in a rudely boisterous New Yorker accent, "Ah-choo! Man! Whoever wore dis, _never_ heard of soap! Schoo-wee!"

"Heyyy! Well if it isn't my undead pal Andy!" Vic grinned, bent down, and picked up the globular brown bomb, "How'd you survive, dude? I thought you blew up back in Blood Gulch!"

"Andy? …Oh, I get it. If I'm a talkin' bomb, I MUST be Andy! Cocksucker. I ain't Andy! I'm his cousin! Francis Martinez Renee Nikolas Cinque Jiao Yamagata III," the bomb bounced animatedly in his hands.

Vic mused with one arm folded and his forefinger and thumb at his chin, "Hmm, that's some name you got there, dude."

"Ehh, just call me Francis."

"Over here! I think I heard something!" The footfalls of numerous boots sadly cut short their acquaintanceship. Vic yipped, almost dropping Francis, "Yuh-oh!"

This slipup caused the blustering bomb to grumble, "S'wrong witchu?"

The petrified radio support retorted, his throat constricted, "T-The guards are after me!"

"Guards…?"

Then a yell came, "Hold it right there!"

With or without an explanation, the look on Vic's face was enough to make Francis perceive this as a vital threat, one that must be dealt with now. He did a fast twirl in Vic's palms and shouted, "Well don't just stand there, ya frozen dick! Run!"

Taking his words to heart, Vic turned tail and tore down the hall. By that time, though, the guards had poured in from the opposite end and have marked their target. "Subject is on the run. Tase him." At the behest of their senior officer, a single guard aimed his taser weapon at the square of Vic's back and fired.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

_You and Tex are **not** together anymore. That was just an excuse for Keyes. That's right. Just an excu—_

"Huh?" Church dashed past the medical bay, skidded to a halt, and backed up to peer through the open doorway, "Doc?"

Hearing his name called, Doc looked up and around, then laid eyes on the cobalt soldier hanging by the entrance. The purple medic cracked a smile and flagged him over with a welcoming hand, "Oh, hey, Church! Come here! I—I mean, _we_—got something to show you."

When Church came up beside Doc, he was greeted by a pair of stoned Grunts. "Hola amigo! This a friend of yours, Doc?" the crimson one giggled, swinging his breather mask about like a flask.

"You bet he is! His name's Church," the medic introduced, hooked his unpleasant-looking friend around the shoulders, and drew him closer to the giddy pair.

"Huh…'ey, Rarag!" the crimson Grunt bumped his orange colleague, "C'mere an' meet our new pal Church!"

The one regarded as Rarag pulled his face from his breather mask with a "pok!" and said lethargically, "Chaaa? You said somethin', Silsip?"

Church frowned. Something was obviously wrong with these Grunts. For one thing, they didn't up and scatter at the sight of him, the usual reaction of all Grunts when seeing a towering Spartan. It's like these guys are out of energy or are suffering from aspirin overdose or…

"Doc. What did you do to them?"

"Do what?"

"That stuff they're inhaling," Church gestured at the Grunts' breather masks, "That's not methane, is it?"

Insulted, Doc huffed, "Not methane? Wha—Are you suggesting I gave them the incorrect gas? Th-That—That hurts my feelings, Church. That hurts my feelings. A-As much as I'm aware of my incompetence on the battlefield, I assure you I _know_ my way around the medical bay." To prove his case, he crossed the bay to another worktable, picked up a rotund canister, and flashed the label at the cobalt soldier. "See this? It says 'meth—" he did a double-take at the label and blanched at his error, "Oh. 'Benzene'…Oops."

Waving a hand at the two Grunts, Church said in disbelief, "So this is what you wasted my time for? To show me a couple of stoned aliens?"

"Hardly! Take a look at this," Doc sat him down in front of a standard-sized monitor and typed various buttons on the keyboard, "These Grunts were sent to relay this video to their leaders. But, as you can see, I kinda accidentally got them to show the video to me."

The shape of a small, dark triangular spacecraft filled the screen. Church squinted his eyes at it, then spoke flatly to the medic on his right, "Soooo? It's just a Longsword."

Doc's smile did a 180, "It's not just a Longsword. Look again." In the video, the near-invisible craft pitched into the wake of a Covenant Loyalist ship and trailed after it through a portal, the same portal they used to travel to this unknown construct. "Our Covenant allies caught this unregistered ship entering the Earth's atmosphere. They tried hailing to it, but there was no response. Before they could stop it, the ship had disappeared into the Portal."

Church's confused expression cued Doc to explain his discovery, "They detected the bio-signs of an alien, a half alien/half human, and another human aboard that ship."

This information sunk into Church's skull like a rock. "Tex!" he widened his eyes and glanced back at the monitor, "O'Malley brought her here!" What luck, a lead!

"Yes, but after they went through the Portal, the Covenant lost track of them. O'Malley could've taken them anywhere on that alien structure."

Church chewed on his tongue, "Eh, that's all right. I'll find him somehow."

"So does that mean you're going to do this by yourself?"

"No way. That'll take too long," the Blue leader dismissed the idea, "Tucker's abomination of nature was captured as well, so he should be more than happy to help."

Doc then pointed out, "But Tucker's already left with the other troops."

"What?"

"Tucker didn't tell you? …Ohhh, I see! _Someone's_ forgotten to turn on their TEAMCOM!" the medic said in singsong voice.

"Aw, fuckberries."

"Ooh, language!" the jovially high Grunts chided.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: ENROUTE TO CARTOGRAPHER, UNKNOWN CONSTRUCT**

When the last enemy fell, Johnson, riding inside a Pelican, announced through his COM, "LZ's clear. Commander, bring her down."

"Roger that. Beginning my descent," Keyes' voice replied.

Wind churned around the troop of Marines and Spartans, kicking up dust and debris with a powerful gale. Painfully recalling the time when a ship landed on him, Donut unconsciously backed up to the farthest end of the landing zone. While everybody ducked for cover, the unmistakable form of _Forward Unto Dawn _whooshed overhead and swooped down to land. Sarge whistled, holding a hand to his eyelevel, "Pretty good driving for a lil' lady. Eh?" He looked to the side and recognized the speck that is Donut on the horizon. "How'd the John Wayne did he get over there so fast?"

After the _Dawn_ obtained a decent site on the plateau, Keyes' voice spoke again on the COM, addressing the Master Chief, "Thanks, Chief. I wouldn't have lasted much longer up there. Come to the back of the frigate."

As they waited for the Chief, Grif entertained himself by hitting his waning force shield against a boulder. "Cheap-as-fart shield. No wonder those Jackal guys keep dying. This thing can only take a few hits!"

"Maybe if you try not destroying it, it might actually last a bit longer," advised Simmons.

Along with three Scorpion tanks and a Warthog, Church dropped out of the _Dawn_'s hangar. He quickly scanned the landing zone and found the Red team lounging near some rocks. Donut just walked in beside them, appearing fairly windswept. "Ah! Hey, Reds!" he called as he hurried over to them.

Sarge glimpsed up and grimaced, like if seeing something gross at the bottom of his shoe, "Hm? Oh. What do you want now, Blue?"

Grif resumed slapping his shield on stuff, not bothering to look at the cobalt soldier, "If this is another help-me-stop-the-Flood favor, you can forget it. In fact, any favor that requires work, you can forget that too."

"No, it's Tucker. Do you know where he is?"

"Do I look like your babysitter?" Sarge brusquely responded, his hand on his hip, "I don't watch namby-pamby Blues. I hunt 'um, gut 'um, and eat 'um for breakfast!"

Contrary to the Red leader's aggressive front, his pink subordinate answered with pure frankness, "He's right behind us with the rest of the Blues. If you wait here, you should see him soon." Such a breach in protocol alarmed the red sergeant so much that Church almost thought the old guy popped an artery. "D-Donut!" Sarge spluttered, "Don't you know you're assisting the enemy?"

"What enemy, Sarge?" Grif inquired innocently, pretending to scout the plateau.

"The Blues! The Blues, fragnabbit!" The scene was as comical as watching a stomping and steaming Yosemite Sam screaming at his two dumb henchmen. "Simmons! Remind them what we are fighting against!" Sarge desperately summoned the aid of his sycophantic second-in-command.

The maroon soldier complied, "Yes, sir. Ahem…Grif, Donut, our enemy is the Covenant Loyalists."

"…And…?" the ruddy sergeant growled under breath, irritation seething from that one word.

"Oh, yes, and the Flood, if they should ever show their ugly mugs," Simmons finished, putting a fist into his other palm, "They're tough and scary, but dumb as hell. So let's kick ass and stay alive, okay?"

"Okay!" Grif and Donut assented in unison.

"NO!" Sarge bellowed, "No no no no no no NO! Rrrr, that does it! All of you! Go read the manual! And once you're done, drop and gimme a hundred while saying 'I hate Blues.' And you…!" He then rounded on Church, wagging a threatening finger at him, "Don't think I'll forget this!" And with that, he stormed away, dragging his men with him as he went.

Church sweatdropped, "Ooookay…" He gazed about and saw most of the Marines and ODSTs have also left. Only a handful of bored soldiers and the _Dawn_ linger on the plateau. In waiting for his Blue teammates to arrive, he sat down on a rock and began to idly scroll through the data chip he still kept from Dr. Pavlovla. He knew he should've turned the chip in to Keyes, but he was curious. If he had told the commander about the chip, she would've confiscated it, ending the likelihood of him learning more of the late doctor's hidden secrets. It's huge risk he's taking, but as someone who's already dead, who gives a damn?

_There's my profile, SPARTAN-413. How in the—She's got my whole life's story in here! And here are the others. Tucker, Caboose, Sarge…Hey. I wonder if this file has Sarge's real name in it…Darn it. I don't have the clearance to open it._

He then came up to an extensive list of files, all of which are classified in bold red letters as "RESTRICTED."

_What's this…?_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: CARTOGRAPHER TERMINAL RM**

A foursome of shaded figures hopped down from the rafters into the unoccupied room below. Just as predicted, all of the Brute guards seem to have been positioned outside of the room. Even then, they can't take any chances. For the operation to succeed, it must go unnoticed.

"_Mwahahaha…At last! The Cartographer! Careful now. They have an awfully heavy patrol outside, so we'd best be quiet. That goes double for you, Tex dear."_

"Go fuck yourself," spat the freelancer.

Lopez jerked the connecting energy chain downward, bringing the three prisoners to their knees. Junior and the other Elite warbled angrily, "_Blarg! Honk honk! Wort wort wort!_" Paying them no heed, the brown Spartan hung over a defiant Tex and took her roughly by the chin.

"_You know, if you don't cooperate, I'll have to kill you. And, to tell you the truth, I'd really hate to have to waste one of my Reclaimers."_

Tex ripped her chin from his hand and shot back, "I'd rather die than help you!"

The robot straightened up, _"Well, after I activate the Halos, you can do just that. But for now…"_ Pulling them toward the Cartographer's terminal, Lopez shoved Tex forward. _"Find me the Control Center!"_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Ahh, crud," Church gave in, lying his back against another boulder. Hacking was not his specialty. "I should've asked Simmons to stay. I could use a computer nerd right now."

Just then, a body collapsed beside him. _**WHUMP! **_Church nearly fell off his rock, "WTF?"

"Crawling…Weak from lack of fluid…Water…Water…" croaked Caboose his script lines as he rigidly crawled for Church, who in turn was staring at him with a funny face, "…"

"Caboose, you just had water five minutes ago," Tucker walked up next to the prone Blue and prodded him in the side with his foot.

"I know," Caboose's frailty was immediately replaced by a grin, "I just wanted to show Church my desert act. Mommy and Daddy wanted me to go into acting, but I wasn't very good at it, so they thought I'd do better in the army. So what do you think, Church?" He looked to his indifferent friend.

Church glanced aside and itched the back of his neck, "Well, let's just say I wasn't convinced enough to give you any water, and could've just left you there dying of thirst."

Sister then questioned him, "Where have you been anyway? You just missed the awesomest ride ever!"

"Awesome, as in, we almost fell out of the stupid Pelican three times," her aqua companion disagreed.

"But that's what made it awesome!"

"Hey, guys, I need y'all to focus," Church snapped his fingers to stop their chatter, "Tucker, I think I know how to find Tex and your atrocious kid."

Tucker flared up, "Hey! Don't call my kid that! He takes after me!"

"Your kid looks _nothing_ like you!…Alright, alright, so he has the same color armor, fine, but just listen," the cobalt Spartan said edgily, "O'Malley brought them here, but I don't know exactly where. So we're going to need a map."

Caboose eagerly proposed, "Ooh! I could get one at the local 7-11."

"Do they still call it '7-11'? I thought it's called 'Valero' now," Tucker cut in.

Sister joined into the confusion, "But I thought Valero took over Diamond Shamrock."

Church was at the end of his rope. He went through a couple pauses before shouting, "I don't think, I've heard anything so pointless—There's no convenient stores on an alien structure, guys!"

Caboose murmured quietly, like a child claiming to monsters under his bed, "…But I saw one back there…"

"Hurrghh," Church rubbed his face in frustration and rounded on Caboose, "Look, I don't really need your delusions right now. Why don't you make yourself useful and go…play in the sand."

"But there's no sand."

"The rocks then!"

"But you're sitting on them—"

"The fucking pebbles!"

"…But the wind blew them away."

"**JUST**…**go**…**play**," Church glared, his eyes fiery and teeth gnashing.

After Caboose sadly plodded off somewhere, Tucker and Sister apprehensively gazed over at their volcanic leader. Tension mounted in Tucker's voice as he spoke, "You okay? I mean, you're not gonna go…crazy on us again, are you?"

"I-I'm good, I, I brought something," Church un-pocketed a clown stress toy, rapidly squeezed it, and thickly exhaled. The rosy color washed out from his cheeks and his squeezing gradually slowed. The toy looked like it had seen better days. Both aqua and yellow soldiers glanced at each other with uncertainty. But before either person could voice their concern, Church persisted in the outline of their plan. "Right. The map. We need to get to the Cartographer…"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"You suck at runnin'."

Vic and Francis sat side by side on a stone cold bunk. Their new "home", or so the Marines have put it, was a plain gray titanium box painted with the ever ubiquitous UNSC logos on each wall. Ordinarily, they would seal the box off with a vibrantly transparent force field so that they can keep the prisoners under constant surveillance. But with the presence of a disgruntled and very volatile bomb, they thought it would be better if they cram them into the more sturdier, bomb-proofed solitary confinement cell.

"To hell wit dis," Francis rolled off the bunk and banged himself against the door, "Hey, comb-ova! I want my phone call!"

Not really fond of his rude remark, the balding guard outside bit back with a sneer, "Sorry. No calls for nonhumans."

"Who are you trying to call, dude?" Vic came up and crouched beside Francis, who replied, "Our lawyer." The radio support pondered this for a second and couldn't recall ever affording one. When he turned to question his cellmate about their so-called lawyer, a muffled ruckus issued from outside. Some shots were fired. "Wuzz goin'…?" Vic pressed his ear against the door just in time to hear a sonorous laser-like zap, a long drawn out scream, and a conclusive silence. Only an alien hum remained.

That hum then amplified as it moved for their cell. On impulse, the two inmates backed away from the door. "I got bad feeling about this, dude…" Vic scooped the bomb up from the floor and held it tight to his chest. The same laser they heard before shot at the cell door and carved it open. What's left of the door fell down like thin sheets of plating. Vic recoiled, squatting in the corner with his hands whipped over his head, "Eyaahhh! Don't hurt me, dude! I'm unarmed! Uhh…The bomb is just a prop!"

Francis wasn't very amused of this lie, "PROP? How 'bout I blow up now, huh? Rain yo' guts all ova tha galaxy an' shit—!"

"_**Francis. Vic."**_

The two inmates looked up from their squabbling and laid their eyes (if Francis had any) on a floating red alien cube. "Dude…That voice! You're…!" Vic slowly recognized.

"_**No time to talk, friends. We have much to do."**_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

_**SCHOOP…POOM!**_

A large crystal shard exploded a few feet from Donut. "Eep!" he cringed from his spot, fragments of rock and metal plinking off his armor like coins. Turning his head toward his leader, he mewled, "Uhh, Sarge? Why are we doing pushups in the middle of battle?" A tungsten shell whizzed over their heads and blew a Shade to bits.

"Why? I'll tell you why! To pay for your ignorance! And to fuel your anger so you can channel it at the Blues!" Sarge spoke as if the reason was obvious, "It's a known fact that the mind and body is strengthened when put through intense physical and psychological punishment, especially when one is in perilous circumstances. The result is high-quality **E**fficient killing machines! What you're doing makes perfect sense!"

When another shell rocketed by them a few yards away, a terrified Simmons objected, "But how're we supposed to defend ourselves, sir?"

The red sergeant offhandedly primed his shotgun, "What do you think I'm standing here for, Simmons? I can't afford to lose my only killing machines. I can spare Grif though. He needs to die."

Behind him, a group of Grunt Minors were kicking Grif while he was attempting to do a pushup, "Ow."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

The Blue team didn't have much to worry about. Most of the vicinity was clear of Covenant activity. There are, however, a minor number of stragglers that would crop up every now and then, making it the Blue team's chore to mop up the mess on their way to the Cartographer.

"Um, Sister?" Tucker approached his yellow comrade as they snacked on their protein bars, "Do you think Caboose has been, I dunno, looking kinda down nowadays?"

Sister munched on her bar and observed Caboose's hunched form from afar, "Well, yeah. Church just yelled at him two minutes ago."

"Before that. Like, he's been sorta depressed or something ever since that thing on Mars."

"Oh. Well, pretty much almost everybody there died except us, and the doc lady died too, so…"

"That's true…"

While the two Spartans stared at Caboose, Church nonchalantly browsed the files of his data chip. Periodically, he would enter a guesstimated password, just to see if he might, by a fluke, access the restricted documents. But after lots of guessing, he gave up and decided to ask for advice. "Hey, guys. What's an eight-letter password that the doc lady could've used?"

"Password," all three of his teammates chorused.

Church was taken aback by their fast answer, "What?"

"The password _has _to be 'password'," Tucker firmly established, "Just like how the access code has to be 'access code'. Every Red and Blue knows that!"

"But…! Passwords are supposed to be hard to crack! Numbers mixed with letters! This is ONI encrypted top secret information for crying out loud!"

Sister laughed, "Yeah. And we were supposed to be the greatest human weapon in the universe."

Church shook his head, "Whatever. I'm just gonna try it, but I don't think it's gonna—Holy shit, it worked."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

It didn't look like the Scarab was going to let them off easy this time. The mammoth Covenant walker winded its way down the side of the Cartographer building and onto the battlefield, squashing anyone or anything that crosses its path.

Posted as the Gauss Warthog's gunner, Master Chief led the assault against it. The task was to take out the Scarab's engine core, a job the Chief was becoming quite accustomed to. Thankfully, the three Scorpion tanks that Keyes had imparted to them provided excellent cover fire, keeping the Brute Choppers at bay while he moves in to board the "colossus."

"I don't know what I've been told,

Shootin' Grif is never old!

Sound off!"

_**CHPOW!**_

"OWH! Sarge! I almost got one pushup down!"

But the sergeant wasn't listening. Rocking back and forth, sitting on top of Grif's back, he was once again reminiscing on old times. "Y'know, back in my day, we used to line up all the useless soldiers on the fence and pop 'em one by one…"

"Sarge! Scarab!" Simmons hollered.

While humming "Clementine," Sarge pulled out a M41. Just as the Scarab walked over them, he fired at a small blue square right below the joint of one of the legs, crippling it with ease.

"?" Master Chief roved the Gauss cannon in the direction of the blast sound and saw the group of Reds, all of whom were in the middle of what appears to be physical training.

"What…?" Master Chief blinked, then remembered his mission and swiveled his weapon back. An earsplitting boom and a jagged bump told him that they just narrowly evaded a shot from the Scarab's main plasma cannon. "Get us in closer!" the rocket-armed Marine passenger instructed the driver. When they were practically right next to the Scarab, the Chief and the Marine combined their attacks and disabled another joint. The colossus teetered on its unbalanced weight and clumsily sunk to the ground. "Yeahah! Suck on that, bitch!" the Marine hooted.

Scaling into the Scarab wasn't a problem. Searching for the engine core wasn't a problem either. The things that could pose as a problem are…

"I SMELL HUMAN!"

Five minutes later…

"It's no fair," Grif complained, "We did the distracting and _he_ takes all the credit for it!"

The sullen group of Reds, except Sarge, watched with envious eyes as the Marines hailed the Chief. Behind them were the smoky charred remains of the Scarab. "Well, you can't really blame him. He **did** jump into the Scarab, killed every enemy inside, and blew the whole thing to smithereens," Donut pointed out, albeit, a bit reluctantly.

The orange Spartan then turned on him, "Oh, so now you're backing him up? After doing a hundred pushups in the middle of a warzone, nearly getting shot and stepped on by an alien behemoth, AND almost got caught in an explosion?"

"If there is anyone you should be mad at, Grif, it's you-know-who," Simmons nodded his head toward Sarge's back. Apparently unaware of their mutinous mumblings, the sergeant was busy reloading his shotgun. Sliding the last bullet home, he wheeled about and commanded, "Up and at 'em, Reds! We're movin' out!"

_Reds, schmeds, _Grif scoffed inwardly,_ As if that team ever existed…_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	11. You again?

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 11: You again?_

**: OUTSIDE MILKY WAY, UNKNOWN CONSTRUCT**

**: _SHADOW OF INTENT_, BRIDGE**

Rtas 'Vadum stared at the viewscreen with sleep-depraved eyes, his lower right mandible just loosely dangling there. He couldn't remember a cycle when he had lain in the comfort of his private chambers. The battle has been going on nonstop. Every so often someone would call to him, reporting an oncoming offense or damage taken to their hull. Sometimes he wished someone else would take care of the problem, but he knew the weight he must carry is his responsibility and his alone. After all, he is the Shipmaster.

Just then, the doors to the bridge whooshed open. Two familiar Sanghelli came bounding up to him; one wore a similar blue color as the Minor Sanghelli, whereas the other had a dark purple hue. "Shipmaster!" each thumped one of their fists to their chest and bowed their heads respectfully.

Rtas closed his lower mandible and revolved his chair to face them, "Mn? Usze. What news?"

The one in dark purple armor, Usze 'Taham, informed, "There were messenger Unggoys sent to relay you an important video. Did you not receive it, sir?"

"No, I have not," Rtas leaned forward, feeling a little suspicion rising within.

The Sanghelli warrior in blue elbowed Usze and whispered, "See, I told you it was stolen!"

"'Sraom!" Rtas called sharply.

"Uh! Yes, Shipmaster?" N'tho 'Sraom erected his posture attentively.

"Is there something you wish to share?"

N'tho clipped his mandibles together tightly, the human equivalency of pursed lips, "Um. Well…"

Usze supported, "My partner believes that the video we sent you has been pilfered."

"It was merely an idea!" his blue companion stammered, "The messengers are probably running late."

Rtas glowered down at him, "Whether or not either is true, that video cannot be seen by others. Usze!"

"Shipmaster," the purple Sanghelli stepped forward.

"I leave you in charge of retrieving that video."

This order stabbed daggers into N'tho's skull. He knew the Shipmaster wouldn't trust him with an important mission. In truth, he never really trusted any young warriors. To him, they are reckless and naïve, highly capable of folly on the field of duty. But N'tho is going to prove the Shipmaster otherwise. He is not like the other trainees, and no one's gonna lump him in as the stereotypical upstart rookie.

N'tho surfaced from his inner thoughts to catch the last of Rtas's order, "…And if someone happened to view its contents, apprehend them and bring them here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" both Usze and N'tho saluted, in the Sanghelli way of course, and left the bridge. Rtas let out a breath, rested his temple against his knuckle and shook his head. It's going to be a long day.

An Unggoy waddled over to Rtas and presented him a tray with a mug full of dark brown liquid on it, "A gift from Cmdr. Keyes, Shipmaster."

"Is that so?" Rtas gazed down at the mug and asked, "…What is it?"

The Unggoy responded, "One is not certain. But the humans call it 'coffee,' sir."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: ENROUTE TO CARTOGRAPHER, UNKNOWN CONSTRUCT**

"You do it."

"No, you do it."

"Fuck that, man. What if he pisses on me?"

"Sucks for you then."

Grif and Simmons covertly snuck toward the rear of a blue-armored Brute. The unsuspecting alien was relieving himself in the corner of the room. Simmons kept his MA5C trained on the target while Grif carefully inserted the long barrel of his sniper rifle in a gap between the helmet and armor. He fired a single silenced 14.5mm round into the Brute's neck and the alien instantly dropped into a puddle of his own piss. A string of pee shot up in the air like a fountain. The two Spartans backed away fast, but not before some of the yellow acid sprinkled on Grif's foot.

"Ughh! Gross! My foot smells like something died!"

His cry awoken the sleeping patrol and the Marines were forced to engage. _So much for stealth, _Master Chief thought as he put down five cowardly Grunts taking flight on a catwalk. Sometimes he wondered if it was a good idea to bring these Reds and Blues along. They've caused more trouble than they're worth, and he knows he's not the only one thinking this.

"Shit! You almost hit me, old man!" one peeved Marine shouted after nearly getting shot in the ass by Sarge.

"You should pay more attention to your surroundings, soldier!" the red sergeant pumped his shotgun, adding more salt to the wound by saying, "And next time I wanna hear a 'sir' in that sentence!"

The Marine groused bitterly, "Yes, _sir_."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A treasure trove of top-secret ONI documents was spilling before his very eyes. Clusters of information regarding the Spartans opened up to him, starting from its origins in Project ORION (the original Spartan-Is) to the clandestine Spartan-IIIs. This is great and all, but where is the good stuff? Where is the part that talks about the 2.5s? Quickly losing interest, he zipped through the profiles of each of the abducted children used on the SPARTAN-II Project. Then, something caught his eye. The Master Chief's profile.

"So what did you find?" Tucker, Sister, and Caboose circled him with bated breath.

"Shush. I'm reading," he waved them back and resumed in scanning the profile. Beside a photo-less avatar was the name John-117. _John? _Church knitted his brow,_ Huh. Well, that's kind of a…normal name. I was expecting something like "Hercules" or "Leonidas". _Following Master Chief's name was his personal information.

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

Spartan Tag: SPARTAN-117

Homeworld: Eridanus II

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Date of Birth: 2511

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Height: 2.08 m./6 ft. 10 in.

Hair Color: Brown

Cybernetics: Neural Interface

AFFILIATION AND MILITARY INFORMATION

Affiliation: United Nations Space Command Navy

Rank: Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy

Specialty: Commander

Battles: Battle of Chi Ceti

Battle of Jericho VII

Battle of Sigma Octanus IV

First Battle of Reach

Battle of Installation 04

Operation: First Strike

First Battle of Earth

Battle of Installation 05

Second Battle of Earth

Class: Class 1 – 2525

_**BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**__**—!**_ A high-pitched tone screeched into Church's ear. A set of big red words ran over Master Chief's profile. It appeared to be a past conversation between Sheila and some other ONI spook.

*~INFORMATION OUTDATED~*

|: A.I. SHEILA

/_REQUESTING REVISION._/

|: Codename: CUSTODIAN

/_Revision denied. Return to primary task._/

|: A.I. SHEILA

/_...AFFIRMATIVE._/

Church thought this conversation was kind of sketchy. He tried to look into it more but there were no further talks between the two. So, he continued on to the main Spartan-2.5 file, which he had at last found. Nothing he saw was new to him because Dr. Pavlovla had already revealed a great deal about them. Except, there was still something she seemed to have forgotten to tell. Like the Spartan-IIs and IIIs, they too were administered to chemical augmentation!

When Church told this to the others, Tucker exclaimed, "Wha? They put us on crack?"

"So that's why everyone kept looking kinda weird," Sister mused.

"No, not that kind of drug!" the corner of the cobalt soldier's mouth twitched in slight irritation, "They put a lot of strange chemicals in us so that we can move around easily in these half-ton suits. Without the drugs, we probably couldn't lift a finger." He looked down at his armor-gloved hand and squeezed it into a fist.

"Oh, so now we're on steroids," Tucker threw up his hands, feeling very upset, "Great. Now how am I supposed to get chicks? I'm gonna be walking around like fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger!"

"Hey, count yourself lucky, Tucker. We didn't get injected with as much drugs as the Spartan-IIs or IIIs," Church sort of tried to console his friend. He then had an afterthought, _Of course that means that we're not as smart as the other guys…_

Then Caboose began to ponder, "Uhh, if they put drugs and stuff in our bodies, then, uhh, why don't I remember getting, y'know, stuff put in my body?"

Church realized this as well and took a glimpse back at the file, "Err. They said something about a sedative in here, so I guess they had to knock us out. Maybe that's why we don't remember anything…Huh?"

"What now?" Tucker stoically asked, "Does it say we're clones?"

The sound of gunfire and explosions answered him. On impulse, the Blues right away went for cover. Less than a quarter mile away was the entrance to the Cartographer…with a big fight happening just in front of it. Hunters were blasting human torsos away with green overcharged shots. Grunts and Jackals shower the Elites with pink needles from the catwalk above. A Brute Captain hoisted a Marine over his head and tore the poor sap in two. Church, Tucker and Caboose winced, imagining how painful that must've been.

Sister, on the other hand, was amazed, "Wow…How're we supposed to get through all that?" Tucker promptly turned around to leave, but was grabbed by the collar by Church.

"Tucker, we're here to save your kid too, remember?" he glared into the aqua soldier's eyes.

"Junior's a big boy. He can take care of himself," Tucker tried to leave again but Church wouldn't have it.

"Tucker, either you come with us, or that Brute's going to have a new chew toy."

"You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?" Church pulled Tucker toward the ferocious ape monster, then the aqua Spartan yelped, "AH! Okay! You win! Shit, the only reason you're not scared is 'cause you're already dead!"

The Blue leader freed his grip on Tucker and handed his sniper rifle to Caboose, "Exactly. I'm going to make a diversion while you guys carry my body to the Cartographer." Sister looked at him questioningly, "Diversion…?"

Church's body suddenly collapsed on the ground and standing in its place was his ghost. "You guys better not lose my body," he warned and then whisked away. Sister took hold of Church's arms while Tucker had the ankles. Caboose led the way. "Man, Church needs to cut down on the Alfredo sauce!" Tucker groaned as he lifted with all his might.

"You think this is bad, why don't you try carrying my bag for me," Sister's legs wobbled as she tried to hold up Church with her heavy duffel bag unhelpfully slipping down her shoulder inch by inch.

"What do you got in there anyway? Bricks?"

"Nnghh…" she shouldered the strap into proper position and puffed, "I'll tell you later."

As they advanced toward the Cartographer, Church ran into the fight and possessed the Brute Captain. Imitating the alien's voice, he announced loudly, "THE PROPHETS HAVE LIED TO US!" And he shot one of the Hunters. Then chaos ensued. Those of the Covenant Loyalists who heard him freaked out and started shooting each other. Confused but seeing a ray of hope, the humans and Elites seized this opportunity to eliminate their enemy.

"Uh-oh," Caboose stopped before a wall, "Methinks we're lost."

"To the _left_, Caboose!" Tucker grunted heavily. Just a foot next to them was the open door of the Cartographer.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

_Master Chief examined the Cartographer's holographic map and inquired the Monitor next to him, "Can you tell me where we are, exactly?"_

"_Here!" Guilty Spark highlighted a particular area on the map, signifying their position on the Ark._

"_And Truth?"_

"_Near one of the Ark's superluminal communication arrays…"_

Master Chief frowned to himself, _But to get to him, we need to bring down that barrier first. _He kicked back a Jackal that was getting to close and took him out with a burst from his rifle.

On the bottom floor of the lower level awaits the broad-shouldered Brute Chieftain Cerberus. After making sure the Master Chief had seen him, the black armored Chieftain brandished his Gravity Hammer and bellowed, "THE PACK WILL FEAST ON YOU!" But to test the value of his prey, he allowed his Brute Stalkers to deal with the Demon first. However, Cerberus quickly saw that they were no match for him.

Even with their Active Camouflage, Master Chief could still see through them. He appropriated a Covenant Carbine from one the dead Jackals and sprayed the Brutes' silhouettes with radioactive projectiles. His luck and skill served him once more as one of their helmets was lightly plucked off, which he immediately followed through with a shot to the teeth. Johnson's voice yelled through the COM, "Hang tight, Chief! We're on our way!" Interpretation: he's going to have to hold out, at least until the Pelicans arrive to extract them.

The Chief's motion detectors then sensed enemies coming up from the sides. He spun in that one spot and attempted to nail each camouflaged attacker, but there were too many. Despite his inhuman reflexes, one of the Brute Stalkers still managed to score a few hits, bringing his shields down by two thirds.

"Charrrrrge!" Sarge, Donut, and Simmons came in guns blazing. With the pink and maroon Spartans melting the alien with plasma pistols and the red sergeant pock-marking its armor with his shotgun, the Brute was brought down to its knees. "Not so tough now, are ya?" Sarge sauntered up to his beaten opponent. What he didn't know is that the Brute was craftily hiding a flame grenade in his hairy paw. If he's going to die, he thought with a toothy grin, he might as well take some of the Demons bastards with him.

"Ooh, what's this here? Looks valuable," somebody swept by and filched the grenade, catching the Brute Stalker by surprise.

Sarge barked, "Whaddya got there, Grif? You better not be thinking of killing my quarry. This wooly mammoth is mine!"

Grif snorted, "Why would I wanna do that? That's too much work. And at any rate, this guy's an ape, not a mammoth."

"Daggonit, Grif, are you making up animals again?"

"Are you telling me you don't even know what an ape is? Geez, no wonder everything on Earth is an endangered species!"

"Ahh, quit your bellyaching. And gimme that!" Sarge confiscated the flame grenade from the orange soldier and passed it over to Donut, "Hold onto that for me, Donut. Should fetch a good price on eBay." Grif wanted to protest, but the evil eye Sarge was giving him made him change his mind. The miffed Brute Stalker growled a bunch of angry Jiralhanae swear words, annoying the red sergeant, "Aw, just shut up and die."

_**CHPOW!**_

"Herrrk! Blarghh."

Master Chief moved to speak to the Reds, but a beastly roar drew everyone's attention to the Brute Chieftain. "FIGHT ME! I'M RIGHT HERE!" Cerberus pummeled his chest with one fist and raised his Hammer challengingly.

"Man, that guy's really spoiling for a fight," Donut marveled, then noticed movement in the corner of his eye, "Hey, Simmons, where're you going?"

Simmons, who was trying to tip-toe away, froze in his tracks, craned his head back to look at him, and meekly pointed in a direction, "Um. Bathroom?"

Cerberus, too, finally noticed Simmons and recognized the maroon Spartan with enflamed fury, "**YOU!**"

Screaming like a girl, Simmons flayed his hands in the air and ran like his life depends on it, 'cause it does. Cerberus stampeded after him with his Hammer raised over his head, ready to strike the fleeing Demon. Master Chief, Sarge, Grif and Donut observed the comical scene as both characters dashed back and forth in the distance.

"Accept your death with honor!"

"No thanks! I'd rather live dishonorably!"

"Coward!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ayudame (means 'Help me' in Spanish)!"

Grif sweatdropped, "I thought he was Dutch Irish."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

After successfully reaching the Cartographer and using it to find Tex and Junior (by randomly pressing various buttons), the Blues heard the extraction call over their COM and are now heading to the lower level.

"So O'Malley took them to some sort of Control Center?" Sister recapped what they just learned.

He assented, "Yeah. And it looks like that's where that Truth guy is at too."

Tucker moaned, "Aww, but that means that there'll be a lotta bad guys there!"

"Guess so. Hey, what's going on down there?" Church and his Blue teammates traipsed onto the bottom floor and saw Master Chief and the Reds. And a panicked Simmons running away from a surly Brute Chieftain wielding a Gravity Hammer. "Are you guys monkeying about again?" he queried the Reds.

Grif looked at Church as if he never seen him before, "What the-? 'Monkeying'? I didn't know someone else besides Simmons says that!"

Cerberus brought down his Hammer and slammed the ground near Simmons's heels, who yelled, "SON OF A BITCH!"

As they rushed by the Spartan spectators, he then accidentally swung it toward Grif, almost braining him, "SON OF A BITCH!"

And he nearly brained Church too, "SON OF A BITCH!"

And almost caught Master Chief in the attack path too, "Son of a—!"

Deciding that this fight has gone on long enough (and becoming quite dangerous), Master Chief ordered the Reds and Blues, "Alright. I think we'd better help our friend now. Grif, Church, get some beam rifles. Take down its shields while Sarge and I move in with shotguns. The rest of you try to land some hits, but stay far away from his swinging." As Grif and Church ran off to find beam rifles, he glanced at the red sergeant, "You fast enough to dodge a Hammer?"

"Don't patronize me, boy," huffed Sarge, "I'm at the prime of my age."

At last, Cerberus had chased his prey into a corner. He threateningly thumped the handle of his Hammer repeatedly in the palm of his paw as he stepped closer to Simmons, who cowered as far back against the wall as possible. The Brute Chieftain bared his teeth into a misshapen smile, "I'm going to enjoy this…" When he hefted the Hammer to strike, a particle beam struck his shields. "What?" Cerberus whipped around and sighted those responsible of interrupting his fun, "Grrr, wretched Demons!"

The Brute's hateful aura shook Church and made him release the beam rifle's trigger, "Uhh, remind me again why we're sticking our necks out for Simmons?"

Grif replied, "Look, that Brute can destroy the Pelicans, so we gotta make sure the area's safe. Now try to get a headshot."

The cobalt Spartan exhaled and placed his finger on the trigger again. But this time, the Brute Chieftain was aware and ducked Church's shot. "Ah, dammit," cursed Church. Cerberus would've come after the snipers if it weren't for the pesky cover fire of the other Reds and Blues.

"Come on, men! Show 'em your metal!" Donut rallied the two teams.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Master Chief and Sarge moved in and pumped the alien giant with fistfuls of lead. Blinded with agonizing rage, Cerberus madly swung his Hammer this way and that. Master Chief was able to maneuver past the swipes, but Sarge wasn't so lucky. The Hammer made contact with the red sergeant's chest and pancaked him into a crater.

"Sarge!" Simmons cried out.

Then something snapped inside. Memories of their times on Blood Gulch flooded Simmons's mind. All the things Sarge has said and done came in echoes and strobed flashes. Although the old man would sometimes drive him crazy, he always felt a connection with him deep inside his titanium heart. After living most of his life without a father, the Red leader has somehow filled that hole. And with the possibility of Sarge dead…That possibility was unacceptable.

"DIE MOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRR!" the maroon Spartan recklessly charged forward and rammed his shoulder into Cerberus's gut.

"Gwagh!" the Brute Chieftain lurched backwards in shock. The impact had broken through his armor, leaving his abdomen wide open.

But the hot blooded Dutch Irishman wasn't about to end his assault yet. He picked up two Spikers from the Brute Stalker corpses and fired superheated metal spikes into Cerberus's neck. The alien beast howled, dropped his Hammer and clawed at the imbedded needles. With his opponent's arms out of the way, Simmons dove in and used the Spikers' blades to hack away at the Chieftain's unguarded stomach, slicing open his bowels and spilling his intestines. When Cerberus reached for his Hammer, Simmons slashed off his arm.

"Aw, dude! Man! Eww!" Grif shut his eyes and reflexively covered Sister's as well, who shouted, "Hey, what—?"

Caboose shivered and hid behind Church, "S-Scary!"

Finally, Cerberus's body couldn't take anymore abuse. He flopped back onto the ground, slumping limply like a rag doll. He wheezed out great globs of crimson blood, which mingled with the streams of perspiration that was flowing down his thick wrinkly skin. While doing his best to keep his guts from escaping, he panted, "Hah…hah…You…really are…hah…a Demon…"

Simmons silently stood over him. Blood dripped from his armor and blades. Every now and then his fingers would twitch from the adrenaline rush.

"Well…go on…Finish it…"

The maroon Spartan raised one of his Spikers and aimed at Cerberus's face, but then paused and lowered it, "…"

"…I said 'finish it'!" the Chieftain took up his Hammer with his only arm and raised it, "Or I will!"

"…"

A vein on Cerberus's forehead pulsed. This human _wants_ to die!

"Fine then, coward…The Great Journey awaits you!" he roared and swung the Hammer down. But before it could touch Simmons's head, something small and orange flew into Cerberus's open mouth. "?"

In less than a millisecond, Master Chief identified the object inside and snatched Simmons back right before a fiery explosion enveloped the area around the Brute Chieftain.

"!"

"What the fuck…?" Tucker, wondering where the flame grenade came from, looked back and saw Donut with his arm outstretched, "Damn! You really do have a good arm!"

"Thanks," the pink soldier beamed and blushed sheepishly, "My coach always encouraged me to join the Olympic team."

Grif scurried down some rocky steps and stopped in front of Simmons, "Dude, you feeling okay? You went like all berserk and stuff. And why didn't you kill that guy?" Simmons shrugged and kept his eyes from meeting Grif's. Everyone else then gathered around Sarge's broken body.

Donut bent down and tapped the Red leader's shoulder, "Sarge…? Sarge, you okay? If you're still alive, please answer us."

Master Chief shook his head, "No one could survive that. Not even a Spartan."

The Chief's words disheartened Simmons, causing his shoulders to sag. Grif contemplated for a minute and then said, "Hey. Remember back at Blood Gulch when Sarge was shot in the head?"

"What? He was shot in the _head_?" Master Chief exclaimed.

Already knowing what his friend is going to suggest, Simmons declined, "Forget it, Grif. It's not going to work. Not this time."

"Aw, hell no. You're not gonna do _that_!" Church made a face, "If you do, I'm leaving."

"Someone please tell me what he's going to do," Master Chief glanced at everyone, mixed with exasperation and curiosity.

Grif simply explained, "I'm gonna give him mouth-to-mouth."

"I'm leaving," Church turned to go, but his comrades held him back, "Oh, c'mon. Seriously, do we really have to watch this?"

Tucker patted his shoulder, "Just chill, Church. It's not everyday we'd catch an episode of _Scrubs_. In real life."

While the Reds and Blues continued to chat amongst themselves, Master Chief looked at them as if they were alien mutants from some other warped dimension. The orange Spartan's proposed procedure didn't make any sense, at least, not to him. Who gives CPR to someone who's already dead with a crushed body? Who? "Guys, even if he's still alive, we should really get him to a doctor instead," he recommended, giving Grif a dubious look. When he realized that no one was paying attention to him, he cried, "Hey!"

"…7, 8, 9, 10!" Each time he spoke a number, Grif would thrust Sarge's chest with his palms and then, after counting to ten, he would blow air into his mouth. Church noxiously placed his hand on his own stomach and stuck his tongue out, "Bleagh."

Grif repeated this process until Sarge began to gasp and cough. "Sweet, it worked! He's alive!" Donut cheered.

Master Chief double-taked and sputtered, "W-What?"

Hearing the good news made Simmons's eyes lit up. "Hey, move outta the way! Lemme see!" he pushed aside the mass of red and blue armor and knelt beside the red sergeant, "Sarge! Sarge, are you alright? Sarge!"

"Quit yellin', Dick, I can hear ya…" the Red leader groaned and slowly sat up, "Urgghh…Whuh happened…?"

Seeing that all is well with his father—I mean, superior officer, Simmons cleared his throat and briefed him in a professional matter, "Sir, you got smashed by a Gravity Hammer, so we gave you CPR and saved you, sir."

"What? Again? Which one of y'all did it?"

"It was Grif, sir. In fact, it was his idea."

Sarge stared at him, then gazed over to the orange soldier, "Grif?"

"Yes, sir," Grif marched up and proudly stood at attention.

"Grif, why in hell didja think that using CPR again could save me from another critical injury? Is that your answer to everything? This ain't some fairy tale, soldier! I mean, where's the creativity? Where's the dadgum Aloe Vera?"

The orange subordinate hung his head low, sighed and said sarcastically, "Your appreciation for me is overwhelming, sir."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: OUTSIDE MILKY WAY, THE ARK**

**: _SHADOW OF INTENT_, BRIDGE**

"Burn! Burn their mongrel hides! Let none escape!" Rtas banged his fist on the arm of his chair. His eyes were wild and his teeth clenched. The sight of their frenzied Shipmaster greatly disturbed the crew.

"Uh, Shipmaster, sir…?"

"Hm?"

"Are you feeling alright, sir?"

One of the consoles suddenly made a bleeping sound. "Shipmaster, incoming transmission," a crewmember pressed a button and the face of Miranda Keyes flickered onto the viewscreen.

"**Shipmaster, we have pinpointed Truth's location."**

Rtas emitted a low growl, "What have you done to me, Commander?"

"**What?"**

"Your gift!"

Keyes blinked innocently with a look of puzzlement, and then recalled the "gift" she sent to the Elite. **"…Oh, the coffee! Was it not good, Shipmaster?"** she looked at him earnestly.

"I have been impaired!"

Now worried that her gift could hurt their relations with the Elites, the commander sat up straight, **"W-What's wrong?"**

Rtas held up his right hand, which shook like a leaf, "My body! It won't cease this infernal shaking!"

"He's also been acting really energetic," one crewmember hissed to another. Rtas shot a glare at him. Keyes blinked again, then stifled a chuckle with her hand.

"This is _not_ a laughing matter, Commander!" Rtas lashed his head around to face her and bellowed.

"**No, no it's not," **she smiled, **"But just look at it this way, Shipmaster. At least you're not tired anymore."**

Rtas folded his arms and sulked, "Hmph."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	12. Setbacks

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 12: Setbacks_

_**14 HOURS AGO ABOARD THE ALBATROSS EDDA-305…**_

"_Come in, HighCom. This is Petty Officer 3rd Class Pyle radioing HighCom. Do you read me, HighCom?"_

"_**Roger, Petty Officer Pyle, we read you. What is your status?"**_

"_Our situation is dire! The A.I. OMEGA was not deleted. I repeat, the A.I. OMEGA was not deleted. OMEGA has destroyed Area 51 and has captured SPARTAN-283, Junior, and the Elite Y'tzu Zazuree. Officer requests immediate backup, over!"_

"…_**10-4, SPARTAN-166 AND A.I. GAMMA has been dispatched to assist you."**_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: LANDING ZONE, THE ARK**

**: _FORWARD UNTO DAWN, _MEDICAL BAY**

With a moderate number of casualties, the humans and Elites have returned from their mission. They have just obtained vital information regarding Truth's position, a big step towards victory. Nevertheless, they still have a ways to go before even considering the thought of celebration. It seems that Truth has activated a defensive perimeter, a barrier if you will, around the Ark's core. This means that to get to Truth, they'll need to bash down that barrier, and to do that, they'll need to destroy the three generators powering it.

So, as of now, their leaders are currently planning their next move.

Concerned for the wellbeing of their "beloved" sergeant, the Reds and Blues (who were curious of Sarge's impossibly fast recovery) had taken Sarge to Doc for a checkup on his supposed-to-be mauled body. Sadly, the purple medic's diagnosis has been, as usual, less than useful.

"Let's see. Fatty build-ups in the arteries, gallstones, hemorrhage in the brain…" Doc perused the screens on his computer, looked up at them and smiled brightly, "Nope! He seems fine to me."

Sarge said in a flat tone, "I want a second opinion."

Sitting on the floor with her back reclined against a cryostasis pod, Sister puckered her bottom lip out as she lifted up her duffel bag in front of her eyes, "This blows. I didn't even get to use this!" She dropped it in her lap and sighed disappointedly, "All because everyone killed that Chieftain guy before I could charge it."

"'Charge it'?" Tucker planted himself beside her, "So that thing's some kinda weapon?" When she didn't reply, he poked her in the arm, "Hey, you said you were gonna tell me!"

She fiddled the bag's zipper, "Actually, I was hoping to show it to you when I use it. Y'know, as a surprise."

The clopping of approaching boots and the distinct smell of cigars concluded their chat. It was Johnson.

He surveyed the Reds and Blues with skeptical eyes and said, "The commander would like to see you." He turned to leave, then remembered something, and looked back at them and shouted, "And for once, would it kill you to turn on your damn COM?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: MEN'S RESTROOM**

_**2 HOURS AGO…**_

Stooped over a body of a security guard snuggly wrapped an open black bag, a Marine lit his cigarette with a match, exhaled and removed the latex gloves from his hands. The door to the restroom clicked and was then followed by the shuffling of footsteps and a yawn.

"I've locked the door and put up the 'Out of Order' sign."

"Mn," the Marine grunted without looking up at his fellow comrade.

"What'd you think he died from, sir?" the other motioned at the body.

"…Laser. Forerunner. A Monitor by the looks of it."

"A Monitor? Here? But I thought Guilty Spark was with the Master Chief."

"He was. This was another one."

The two supposed Marines silently continued to stare down at the body. The one appearing to be in charge then asked the other, "Have you cleaned the brig yet?"

"It's spotless, sir. Thank God they only hit solitary confinement, otherwise we'd have hell on our hands."

"Excellent. Zip him up. We're going to relocate him somewhere else."

"Yes, sir," the other Marine got down and closed the bag.

The senior Marine did some adjustments on his radio in his helmet and said, "We may have a traitor in our midst."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"I apologize, men. But from here on, you're going to have to sit this war out."

A dead silence fell between the Reds and Blues. In the back of the conference room, Master Chief quietly bowed his head. Johnson seemed totally apathetic to this news. Keyes set her mouth and stood firm, already knowing what to expect.

"…WHAT? Why?" the multicolored Spartans clamored.

The commander hesitated at first. Then, while recalling one of the reasons to her enacted penalty, she begun to explain, "There were many factors that led me to my decision."

_Rtas was fuming at her on the matter involving her "gift" when two of his Elites, N'tho and Usze, entered onto the _Shadow of Intent's_ bridge._

"First is you, Private Church and Medical Officer DuFresne."

Church glimpsed along the line of seated Spartans, "Du-what-now? I dunno anybody who goes by that."

An offended Doc hopped up from his chair, "What? You mean you don't even remember changing my name?" A device on his belt had punctually a beeping noise the moment he left his chair and was still beeping as he talked. He glanced downward, put a hand to the device and turned it off. "Oh, swell. You made me raise my blood pressure. Now I have to go do my yoga lessons."

As he moved to leave the room, Johnson grabbed Doc by shoulder and shoved him back down in his seat, "You can save those lessons for later, quack."

"'Quack'?" —_**Beep beep beep beep beep— **_"Aww!"

Keyes spoke loudly over the sound, "Anyway…"

_Usze summoned over two Unggoy baseheads while N'tho held up a video storage unit. Rtas snarled something inaudible at the Unggoy, both of which quivered in fear and prostrated themselves on the ground before the Shipmaster. They waved their arms frantically and blabbered some excuses._

"Both of you have seen footage that was not cleared to you."

Church shrugged, acting like this wasn't a big deal, "So what? It's not like we _stole_ the video!" He then gazed over toward the purple medic, "Hey, Doc, you were gonna give it back, right?"

"Of course! I'm a medic, not a thief."

Now it's Tucker's turn to flare up, "Hey, don't steal my quote! That thing's patented!"

"Gentlemen!" Keyes shouted, impatience now biting at her, "If I hear one more outburst, I'll hand you over to the Brutes. Is that clear?"

The commander's temper had frightened the Spartans into yet another silence, "…"

"IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Yes, ma'am," they hastily muttered.

"Good. Now, this wouldn't have been a serious offense if it weren't for the fact that that property belonged to the Elites. They also find it insulting if a lowly recruit views important information prior to a superior officer."

Church and Doc hunched their backs as she stared them down.

"The second issue…"

_Another memory surfaced. This time, it showed Master Chief reporting to her about the last mission. Behind him was a group of aggravated Marines, ODSTs, and Covenant Separatists._

"…pertains to your conduct on the Ark."

Simmons furrowed his brows, "But didn't we just accomplish our mission, commander?"

Keyes agreed, "Yes. But that still doesn't excuse your behavior. I was told that you were…" She checked the report in front of her again, "…doing pushups on the battlefield…?"

Sarge spoke up with a hand raised, "Uh, that would be my doing, ma'am. I was, uh, trying to teach my boys a viable lesson."

"'Valuable,' sir," his second-in-command corrected.

"Did I ask for a grammar check, Simmons?"

"No, sir."

The commander went on down the list, "And another report states that most friendly-fire and screw-ups came from your teams."

"See? I told you were not good with that sniper rifle," Tucker mumbled to Church, who hissed back, "You're not one to talk! You shot Tex in the ass once, not to mention got **my** face busted in because of it!"

"What? Are you still sore about that?"

"One of these days, Tucker, I'm gonna…"

"Third, and I believe one of the most significant issues," Keyes's expression became grave, "is your psychological records."

Simmons swore under breath, "Fuck."

_The last memory flashed through a scene taking place in the commander's office. Keyes was holding a conversation on her computer with an elderly man wearing glasses and a white lab coat._

"The release signatures on here are forged. We called the rehabilitation center on Earth and they said that you all weren't supposed to be discharged for another 5 years. Moreover!" she bent forward closer to them, stressing every spoken word, "They said that you all _mysteriously_ _disappeared_!"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

Grif made one tiny peep, "Busted."

All the Reds and Blues bolted from their seats and ran for the exit. Keyes shot up from her chair and commanded the guards outside, "Seal the door!" Johnson tried to stop them, but they bowled him over, smashed open the closing doors (squishing the guards between the walls and doors), and zoomed down the hall.

"Master Chief!" Keyes cried, but the Chief was already on them. He came out from the conference room, whipped out a M6G pistol, and aimed at their retreating backs.

Grif quickly glanced back and saw the Chief's form, "Ho…ly…SHIT! MasterChief'sgonnakillus!"

"WHAT THE FU—AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" (_**—Beep beep beep beep beep—**_) the Spartans erupted into a mass panic and tripped and fell over each other as they scrambled in random directions, colliding into other people and breaking the items they carry. It was like watching a herd of gazelle being terrorized by a lioness on the _Discovery Channel_. Master Chief cursed and, after getting a clear shot, fired several rounds. Once their shields were down, Grif, Sister, Church, Doc and Sarge were hit in the arms and legs and fell down, each safely neutralized. The rest had already turned the bend or strayed into some rooms.

Johnson and Keyes came out of the conference room just as the Chief had left and saw the destruction caused by the Spartans' rampage. The commander folded one arm under her elbow and squeezed the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. "Oh my goodness. The more time we deal with these guys, the less time we have at stopping Truth," she spoke in a strained voice, feeling a terrible migraine coming on.

"Don't worry, Commander. I got 'em. You just focus on bringing that ugly-ass son of a bitch down," the sergeant reassured her, then ordered in his radio, "All military personnel, we have 4 rogue Spartans on the loose…"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"…**Their armor color is aqua, blue, maroon…"**

A platoon of Marines jogged through the cargo bay and out the exit hatch. As they glided down the hall, they passed by a pair of crates. Once they had gone around the corner, the crates hovered off the floor and revealed two sets of colorful feet. As the moving crates skittered through the cargo bay's hatch, an Elite happened by and spotted them.

"Turn right, turn right!" the leading crate whispered to the other and both wormed into a pile of more crates.

Tucker pushed his crate-disguise off and breathed heavily, "Man, I don't believe this! It's like you do alright in one mission and they throw you in the funny farm as a reward. I mean, that like fucking bullshit! Right, Caboose?"

The other crate rolled off and uncovered a confused Donut, "What are you talking about? I'm not Caboose."

"Huh…?" Tucker blinked.

"You are two of the missing Spartans," a voice spoke from above.

The aqua and pink Spartans looked up and found themselves locked eye-to-eye with the Arbiter, "Ohhhh, snap."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

In the ship's empty core room, Caboose was walking backwards on an iron-grated tier, darting his eyes about suspiciously at every moving shadow.

Behind him, Simmons was doing just the same.

Then they bumped into each other's backs. "AHH!" they screamed with a startled jump. When both spun around and saw one another, Simmons exclaimed in relief, "Oh God. It's just you Caboose."

Caboose, however, wasn't so happy to see him. Oh, no, he is **not** happy to see this guy at all, the very source of his depression. It was him that took her away. He, a Red, kidnapped one of their own, kidnapped his nice big tank lady friend…Well, okay, so she's not really a tank anymore and she's not really big either, but still! Ever since that incident on Mars, he hadn't even had so much as a chance to talk to her because of all the fighting they had to do. Well now that their mission's over, this is his chance.

He pointed an accusing finger at the maroon soldier, "You took Sheila."

"Huh? Did you say something?" Simmons cupped the back of one of his ears to hear and half-yelled over the giant noisy fans spinning nearby.

"Give her back!"

"Wha? Give _who_ back?"

"You don't fool me with your tricks, evil dark red person! Give Sheila back!"

Before Simmons could fully make out his demands, Caboose pounced on him and the two began to wrestle on the tier. They rolled and jostled about, ungracefully getting their limbs tied together as they punched and kicked each other. They somersaulted down a stairwell and smacked against a terminal, denting it and shorting out its power. With the terminal now broken, the giant fans in the core room had been disabled.

Simmons heaved Caboose off of him and yelled, "What the hell is your problem?"

"You stole Sheila!"

"Wh—? _Stole_ Sheila? I never stole her! Your leader gave her to me!"

"You're lying! Church only let you carry her for awhile! He never gave her to you!"

"Okay, so he let me carry her! Big-fuckin'-whoop! What's your point?"

"You, uh, never gave her back!"

"Well, no one's ever asked for her back! And, y'know, she never really asked to be sent back either!"

"Uhh, well, t-that's because you, uh, brainwashed her!"

Simmons smothered his face with his hand, getting very frustrated at this point, "Oh, that is the most ridic—"

"_**Simmons."**_

_Uh—! Sheila? _The A.I. was privately speaking to him inside his mind again.

"_**Let me talk to him." **_The maroon soldier frowned, closed his eyes and sighed. He shook his head, then remove Sheila's data chip from the back of his helmet and held it out before Caboose. When the Blue gave him a perplexed look, he said, "Sheila wants to talk to you." As he spoke, the diminutive hologram of the A.I. flickered onto the flat side of the chip.

"Hello, Private Caboose."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: SYDNEY, AUSTRAILIA, EARTH**

**: HIGHCOM FACILITY BRAVO-6**

**: ONI, NAVSPECWAR, OMICRON DIVISION, LAB 11**

_**1 HOUR AGO…**_

Fingers rapidly typed on a keyboard. The scientist doing the typing was staring intently at the monitor before him. On the monitor was a wire-frame schematic of an average human male and female. Around the scientist were many others like him, plus surgeons and biotechnicians. They were busily moving about, taking notes on data pads and working on different tasks at their appointed stations. All were outfitted in white lab coats with ONI badges sewn on the upper arms of their sleeves.

In the center of the spacious lab were rows and rows of tables with half-naked men and women strapped onto them. Each table had a divider to separate the subjects from one another, and beside each table was a computer and a tall, thin rack with IV bags and such hanging from them. Scores of tubing from the bags were looped around the subjects with needles punctured into their skin and oxygen cups enclosed over their noses and mouths.

The doors to the lab swooshed open and a man in a military uniform strode in. His gait had a peculiar lope to it, like someone who had spent much time in space. His graying hair was shaved close to his head and his uniform colored with the high-ranking insignia of admiral. When he drew near, the scientist, who was speedily typing on the computer, immediately halted in his work and saluted.

"Admiral Ferrell! W-We weren't expecting you."

"It was my choice to come down here without notice," the admiral sashayed past him and stepped over to the side of one specific male subject, his voice as smooth as his walk, "We're going to have to cut his physical short. I need him for an assignment."

The scientist wrung his hands together agitatedly, "But, admiral, the subject is still recuperating—"

Ferrell snapped, "Wake him!"

The computer next to the subject produced many bleeps and noises as the needles and tubing were removed. Oxygen hissed from the breather cup. The scientist came over and injected the subject in the arm with a syringe. The subject's eyelids gradually fluttered open. When he became fully awake, his eyes flitted about, taking in his new surroundings.

The admiral greeted the subject, "Agent Washington."

"…!" the subject reacted to the call of his name.

"…Also known as Recovery One," Ferrell's impassive face then morphed a smirk, "Welcome back to the living."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: LANDING ZONE, THE ARK**

**: _FORWARD UNTO DAWN_**

Viewing from the hall outside, serrated shards of shrapnel exploded out from the cargo bay hatch. Through the plumes of smoke sprung the dark outlines of two Spartans as they flew from the hatch and clumsily galloped away from the scene.

"Is he following us?" Donut shrilled.

Tucker gazed over his shoulder but couldn't see through the smoke. However, he could hear the ominous sound of thundering hooves in the distance. "Uh, yeah, I'd say he is."

"Ohh…"

"Hey, come here," the aqua soldier dragged his pink cohort into an open room, "I hid some cool stuff in here after we came back. I think it just might save—us…"

It took Tucker two seconds to realize that coming in here was a mistake. A squad of twenty buff ODSTs turned and glared at them. "Well look what we have here," a security guard at a console leered, "Guess we don't have to go search for them after all."

"Tucker, you dumbass, why the fuck did you came to the brig?" Church shouted from inside a force field prison cell.

Donut flipped out, "The brig?" He whirred to his right and grasped Tucker by the collar, shaking him, "You didn't know you were taking us to the brig?"

The aqua soldier sweatdropped and grinned in embarrassment, "Uh, well, I, uhh…Oops?"

"Can't back out now, meat. You're mine," one heavy-set ODST advanced on them with outstretched hands. Both Spartans backed up slowly toward the exit. Their backs bumped against something hard. An overhanging shadow and a soft snarl instantly told them that they had lost.

"Hmph. It's a shame that they would don fools in such respectable armor."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Face sopping wet with tears, Caboose was beside himself with grief. He was like a child whose dear pet had just died, or a youth who was rejected by his first crush. He clutched his upside-down helmet tightly in his arms and rocked a little from side to side. Tears have filled the helmet to the brim and started to trickle onto the floor. Simmons wasn't sure how to fix this, but Sheila seemed to know what she was doing, so he decided it'd be best if she did the talking.

"Don't cry, Caboose. I never left you."

"Y-Yes you d-did," he choked between hiccups, "First you w-went with th-th-that L-L-Lopez guy, and now you're w-w-w-w-w—!" He wailed so loudly that Simmons thought he had shaken the whole ship.

"Shh. It's okay, Caboose, it's okay," Sheila gently hushed the weeping Spartan, "Caboose? Caboose, listen to me. You're right. You're right, Lopez and I were together. But Simmons is just a friend."

Caboose finally simmered down a bit, still hiccupping, "I-If he's just a f-friend, why d-didn't you come b-back?"

"Simmons asked me to help him find the Cartographer, so I did. Friends are supposed to help each other, right?"

He nodded, "Y-Yeah…"

Just then, something solid and metallic pressed against the back of Simmons's head. At this,Simmons scolded himself for his error, _Damn. I forgot we were being chased. _As the maroon soldier stiffened and raised his hands to surrender, a harsh, gravely voice behind him commanded the others, "Freeze, all of you."

"!" Caboose and Sheila gasped upon seeing their surprise guest, "Master Chief!"

"I'm sorry," the Chief apologized with deep regret, "but this is for everyone's safety, including yours."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"I'm telling you, we're NOT crazy!" Church brought himself as close to the force field as possible, careful to not touch its magnetic surface, "Okay, I admit being isolated in Blood Gulch for a few years has chemically imbalanced some of us, but we can still fight!"

Master Chief denied his plea, "You're too dangerous and too incompetent on the field. Not only that, you've escaped from rehab."

"That's because we're not crazy! God, weren't you listening?"

Sister whined about the rehab center, "I'm not going back in there! There's this really gross old guy that thinks I'm his wife. He even tried to kiss me! Urghh." She shuddered from the thought.

Tucker couldn't help but remark, "What, you don't wanna be the next Anna Nicole Smith?"

"Also," Master Chief went on, "Cmdr. Keyes didn't get to tell you this, but Doc here could be tried for malpractice."

The purple medic cried, "Malpractice?"

"You said you use that 'healing apparatus' to heal people, right?" the Chief indicated the impounded 'apparatus' in an ODST's hands, "Well, this thing isn't meant to heal people. It's a plasma pistol."

Now everybody looked at Doc. The medic chuckled nervously and inched away. The Reds and Blues then grappled him and burst out a flood of outraged complaints. "You were using a plasma pistol? Are you trying to kill us? Is that why my skin's all cauterized? This green causes impotency, huh? Somehow I had the feeling you didn't know what you were doing!"

At last, Johnson got fed up with their incessant blather and said, "Alright, show's over. We got a prophet to bag…And a ship to fix." He shot one final look at the Reds and Blues, who all guiltily flinched. The ODSTs, Arbiter, Master Chief and Johnson then departed the brig, taking with them their weapons and Sheila.

"Nooooooo, Sheeeeiiiiilaaaaaa!" Caboose pushed up against the force field, receiving an electrical shock, "Ow."

Simmons started forward beside Caboose. _Sheila!_

"What's wrong with you guys?" Grif inquired, finding their actions strange.

Tucker, though, was able to put two and two together, seeing as how he's a love expert. "Ewugh. It's the weird, horribly disgusting love triangle thing again!" he gagged.

"It's not like that! We're just good friends," Simmons defended himself, "She's actually someone intelligent to talk to."

Sarge stared at him, "…"

"…That insult was directed towards Grif, sir."

"I figured it was."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: BEACH, THE ARK**

Foamy waves lapped onto the sloping sand dunes. Grass, flowers, and young trees grew where the sand ends. Rocky outcrops dotted parts of the shoreline. An arch protruding from a precipice ends at the water's edge. The sky was a perfect blue, the artificial sun hung high, and light brushes of cirrus clouds completed the picturesque landscape.

Disrupting the tranquility of this background was the alien arrival of a cloaked ship. It plummeted from the heavens, its head a blazing ball of fire and its tail a trail of pale smoke. The ship crashed into shallows and skidded, hollowing out a trench from sea to land until it bumped into a large sand dune. The cloaking fell and exposed the identity of the ship: a Longsword.

The hatch opened and a Spartan in black armor with a yellow trim leapt down from the starfighter. The Spartan inspected the condition of his ship and scowled at the scratch marks caused by his below-average landing, "Darn. It had a custom paint job too." He pressed a button on a remote and the Longsword's cloaking activated, hiding it for the time being. _As if this'll hide it for long_, he thought sardonically. The trench he made was a dead giveaway. If only he had more flight training…

Since the beach is securely desolate, he took the time to reread his mission objectives. As he did so, a recollection of memories came to mind.

_In the admiral's office, Ferrell was acquainting him to his latest assignment._

"_SPARTAN-166 and his A.I. GAMMA were originally sent to delete the rampant A.I. OMEGA and rescue SPARTAN-283, Junior, and Y'tzu Zazuree…They have betrayed us and are now allies with OMEGA. We thought that the memory wipe we did on SPARTAN-166 and GAMMA could quash their rebellious behavior, but apparently this tactic didn't work. According to our spies, their most recent action thus far is the murder of a security guard and the liberation of Vic and Francis the Bomb from the ship _Forward Unto Dawn_._

"_Your job is to gather information on OMEGA and his new allies' whereabouts on the Ark and report to us via OMICOM. Once we have that information, we will send help. Real help this time. Good luck, Agent Washington. For the sake of humanity, I hope you succeed in your mission."_

"'For the sake of humanity'…" Washington echoed these words pensively. _Funny…I wasn't thinking about honorable things like that when South betrayed me. The only thing that has kept me alive is… _He slid the magazine in and the battle rifle automatically locked. "Revenge."

He then heard a deafening sonic boom and took a glimpse at the sky. Five Pelicans and two Covenant Separatist Phantoms soared through the clouds, their destination appearing to be the beach as well. Movement on his motion sensors told him the Covenant enemies here have already perceived the arriving threat and are growing restless. Having no desire to be caught in a crossfire between the two forces, Washington collected all his equipment and headed inland.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	13. And so you’re back, from outer space

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects  
**_Episode 13: And so you're back, from outer space_

"GOD _DAMMIT_!"

Church kicked one of the metal bunks and it exploded. Literally, it _exploded_. A chunk of it shot up into the air and lodged itself into the ceiling light above, shorting it out and casting darkness on one side of the cell. The rest of the Blues and Reds have shrunk themselves in a corner, hugging onto each other and trembling with fear. Donut called to the security guard while pointing at the raging Spartan, "Um, Mr. Security Guard, sir? Can you put us in another cell? This guy's scaring me!"

"Mother-fucking-dammit!" with each word spoken, Church punched a hole in the wall, "All-the-fuck-I-wanted-was-to-get-Tex-and-get-the-fuck-out-of-this-fucking-shithole! BUT NOOOOOOO!" He stopped his punching temporarily to rant, "The fucking army's got fucking issues! WELL _FUCK_ THEM!" Church then punched a really big-ass hole in the wall.

"HEY!" the security guard finally shouted. He switched off the force field and posted himself behind the Sentinel Beam that was lying on the top of his console, "Stop or I'll go Ghostbuster on you!" The Blue leader probably didn't hear him because he kept on punching. The guard fired and the gun's orange beam drilled into Church's back.

"AGHHH! Fuckin' douche bag!" Church bellowed and moved to jump out of the cell, but the guard zapped him again. The beam's power was so crippling that Church could barely stand. After two more shots, the Blue leader went down in a heap. His fingertip almost reached the threshold.

The guard took his time in strolling over to the cell, carrying with him the Sentinel Beam just in case the others try to escape. As he walked, he taunted at the stunned Blue, "Think you're all tough just 'cause you wear that armor, ghostie? Huh? You think you're so tough?" When he came up to the beaten Spartan, he gave him a swift hardy kick to the side. Church hacked out a long cough and curled up into a ball. The guard bent down and spoke into the Blue's face, "The next time I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it, soldier?"

But Church was too winded to reply. The guard got up, went back to his console, and switched the shield back on. "And don't even think about hopping out of that body of yours, 'cause I'll get you," he added for good measure.

"Church!" his Blue teammates flocked around him and tried to help him up, but he swatted them away. "Just leave me alone," he grumbled and sat upright with his feet flat on the ground and his arms resting on his knees.

"You gotta learn to control yourself, boy," said Sarge, "If you haven't noticed, we're all stuck in the same boat now."

"So? It's not my fault you're here."

Disliking his leader's attitude more and more, Tucker mumbled pointedly, "Well, _some_ of us have a reason for being here."

Church gazed up at his aqua friend. That's right. Tex wasn't the only one kidnapped. All this time he's been going on about wanting Tex back, but he never gave a second thought of how Tucker felt. He had lost someone precious too. A freaky, ugly someone, but a precious someone all the same. And the others. They're caught up in this war as well. They could've stayed back in rehab and skipped out on death, but they went anyway. Why is that? In his case, he escaped rehab because he had sensed Tex's presence. He had a feeling she was still out there, so he left and joined the army for their convenient travel service. Since he's already dead, he had no worries of getting into a fight. But the others…What's their story for being here?

He looked over at everyone, shame etched across his features, "Tucker? Guys? …I'm sorry. I should've…I should've put more consideration in you all." He faced his Blue comrades, "And you guys been at my side since we got here. Tucker has a kid to save, and Caboose, Sister, I don't even know _why_ you're helping!"

The chipper yellow Spartan beamed, "Well, duh! We're a team. We're supposed to watch each other's back." Caboose nodded along with her earnestly. Observing their steadfast devotion, Grif furtively drew his eyes elsewhere.

Sister's response left Church speechless. He lowered his gaze to the floor and murmured, "I don't deserve you guys."

"Huh?" Tucker was taken aback by this different side of Church, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, during our years at Blood Gulch, I always thought you all were idiots. Well, except Grif. He's smart, just lazy."

"Oh, yeah. Hear that, Simmons?" Grif haughtily rubbed his nose at him, "I'm smarter than you!"

Simmons returned with a bland look, "That's only one man's opinion, Grif."

"That's why I tried not to associate myself with everyone," Church went on. Reflecting on the past, he then let out a chuckle, "Heh. I tried not to associate myself with _anyone_ since after my breakup with Tex. Maybe that's why we never stayed together. I've just been too…too…"

"Anti-social? Bitter? A sourpuss?" Tucker suggested, then clamped his mouth shut when Church glared at him. The aqua soldier grinned at him to show that he was joking and the latter just sighed and resumed his confession.

"But here you guys are, proving me wrong again. Well, I still think you guys are idiots sometimes, but…" he smirked, "I don't know…Sometimes I think _I'm_ the idiot…Especially now."

Tearing up and getting all emotional, Caboose squirmed and glomped the cobalt soldier, "Ohhh, Churrrch! Don't call yourself an idiot! You're a smart, **smart** leader!"

Iced up in shock, Church slowly thawed out, man-hugged Caboose back with one arm and patted his shoulder-blade. "Eh heh heh, yeah, uhh, thanks, um, Caboose. That's a, uhh, really nice thing, to say…" he forced a tense smile. When the dark blue soldier didn't let go, Church eased him away, "Umm, yeah, okay, I think that's enough male-bonding now."

"Ahem. Uhh, so…" he cleared his throat and glimpsed towards the others, "Why are you guys here?"

Grif straighten his posture, eager to share, "Oh, don't even get me started on why we're here."

Simmons bumped him aside and told Church, "Yeah, don't get him started on that. He's gonna be going off on tangents talking about cosmic coincidences and God's plan for us."

"So you WERE listening that time!"

"'Course I was! I was right there! I was just feeling so mind-boggled by your sudden monologue I could barely think!"

"'Mind-boggled'? Who _says_ that anymore?"

"Uh, y'know what? I'ma gonna just…ask someone else," Church scooted away and then turned to Tucker, "So, since you didn't know about Junior at the time, why did you join the army again after we got out of rehab?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: BEACH, THE ARK**

Meanwhile, during the time in which the Reds and Blues are talking in jail…

"Pile out! Go, go, go!"

"Up the beach! Kill that Wraith!"

Their voices and the sound of battle could be heard, even from faraway. As he drifted between the forest trees and moved into a small meadow, Washington glanced back at the beach. A large green blur sped by the Marines and vanished from his line of sight. _…? Could that be…?_

A twig snapped behind him. He whirled around toward the foliage with his battle rifle at the ready. Nothing was there.

"…" he steadily lowered his gun.

Another twig snapped. He repeated the same actions as before, although, he was somewhat annoyed this time. "Come on out, you little fucker," he whispered as he kept his eye on the scope. Then, something emerged from between two bushes. He aimed his gun at it but faltered when he saw his target, "Wyoming!" _Damn it. How long did he know I was here?_

The white-armored Freelancer laughed in his thick British accent, "Ho ho ho ho. Dear me! I'd never thought the admiral would send Baby Washington to dispose of me! What a surprise! Ha ha ha."

"Laugh it up, Wyoming. It's all you're ever good for."

On a dime, Wyoming ceased his cheerful manner, "Is that how you greet someone who's resurrected from the dead? Oh, yes, that's right. You were dead too, thanks to—oh, what's her name?—South Dakota?"

That very name triggered a flow of hate within Washington. "She was a traitor, just like you," he spoke through gritted teeth, "And all traitors should die and stay dead."

Wyoming sneered, "And I suppose you still believe you're fighting for a good cause? Face it, Washington. The admiral used us. _Our own race used us!_ We're nothing but tools in their eyes. They're not any better than I am. Giving up their humanity 'for the sake of humanity'? What a joke."

"So you think activating the Halos will solve everything?"

"Right on the money," the Freelancer winked, "Do you want to know what O'Malley's plan is, hm? He's going to use the Halos to wipe out every living opposition, after I safely gather all the Freelancers here, of course."

Washington scoffed cynically, "Oh, I get it. So 48 super-humans, 2 aliens, and a robot are going to repopulate your newly formed galaxy."

"Don't be absurd. With the technology we have on this Ark, we will develop a new species that will dominate this galaxy. A better species than the lowly normal human."

"You're so full of shit," Washington pulled up his battle rifle, "And I'm done talking with you." He opened fire on the Freelancer. It turns out, though, the Wyoming he was conversing with was just a hologram.

The white Spartan chuckled as the bullets harmlessly zipped through him, "You are so predictable, Washington. But your gumption deserves applause. As a fellow Freelancer, why not come with us? Together, this galaxy will be ours!"

A smile crept on Washington's lips. He hissed in a gruff voice, "Haven't anyone ever told you yet? I'm not Freelancer anymore…"

Wyoming blinked, "…?"

"…I'm a Recovery agent." Washington shot at the base of a tree and a device that was hidden there burst into flames. The Wyoming hologram dissipated into bits of data and was gone. As the flames withered to nothing, Washington shouldered his gear and left the meadow.

Standing on a hill one or two kilometers away from the meadow was the real Wyoming. In one hand was a pair of binoculars and in the other a remote control to the holographic device. He chortled, "So predictable."

"_**He's not going to help us. We should just kill him."**_

"No, not yet. I want to see the look on his face when he sees her again."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"You did it for the chicks?" Church stared at Tucker unimpressed.

"Actually, one of those military recruiters caught me while I was wandering around town carrying my armor. Then I agreed to enlist because of the chicks on that tank they were showing off."

"…You carried your Spartan armor in broad daylight? Don't you know that Spartans are considered a myth and people would be gawking at you?"

"I had nowhere to put them! I was lost and broke! I had nothing but the clothes on my back and my armor. I was planning to pawn the armor…"

Grif spoke up, "It was the same for me and my sis. Except we had money and were able to go home."

Sister then put in, "But since our dad is already dead and our mom had abandoned us to join the circus, we didn't have anybody to go home to. So we got bored and signed up for the military again."

"She only followed me because she didn't like being alone. I went because some Insurrectionists blew up all the GameStops in our neighborhood and I had nothing to play on my 360."

It was now Simmons's turn to talk, "I went home too and found my dad still lying on the couch, drinking beers and throwing up, so I went to my mom's house. She convinced me to continue my military career. She wanted me to become a better person than my dad."

With sympathy eating at him, Church said grimly to Grif, Sister, and Simmons, "Man, you guys have pretty dysfunctional families."

Simmons shrugged, "Eh. Not every family's perfect. That's why I look up to Sarge as sort of a surrogate father."

"What about you, Sarge?" Church turned his attention to the Red leader, "Why did you reenlisted?"

Sarge sniffed and thumbed his chest proudly, "What'd you think, Blue? My service to Earth isn't over yet, not by a long shot!"

"But didn't you want to hang around in rehab for another week because you liked that sexy nurse?" Simmons brought up. Grif questioned with just as much interest, "Yeah, what changed your mind?"

"Oh. Well, ironically, that nurse permanently transferred to another ward that day and all they had left was Big Bertha."

"Ooh, yeah, yeah, that's a…that's a good reason to leave," Doc winced while nodding, thinking of the old she-male nurse.

"Doc, Caboose, Donut, you haven't told us your reasons yet," said Church.

The purple medic laughed, "Oh, mine's isn't so elaborate like everyone else's. I just wanted to put my skills to good use."

Tucker commented, "On what? Corpses?"

"Just what are you implying?" Doc put his hands on his hips.

"You tried to heal us with a plasma pistol!"

"Well it worked, didn't it? No one's died!"

"_Yet_!"

Church sided with his Blue colleague, "Tucker's right, Doc. You might accidentally kill us someday. Wouldn't that mar your reputation as a pacifist?"

"Okay! Okay! I get the picture," Doc gave in, "I'll go back to medical school."

Caboose swayed back and forth on his knees and said thoughtfully, "When I came home, my parents were gone, just like Gruf's."

"My name is Grif. At least get it right."

Tucker interjected, "Wait, Caboose, you told us your parents loved you. Why weren't they home?"

"Perhaps they went to the movies. Or they were out shopping. Or they went tobogganing," he rummaged around the packs attached to his belt and fished out a piece of paper, "They just left me this note."

Church took the chicken-scratch-written note and read it aloud, "'Dear Michael, if you find this note, please understand that we haven't forgotten you and are out looking for you. The UNSC said that you were dead, but we don't believe it. You've sent us a postcard and muffins just a week ago, so we know that you must be alive. Please stay home and call us on our cell. The number is (222) 555-1919. With lots of love, Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Cid, Aunt Marla, Uncle Lo, Aunt Sophie, Jerry, Patrick, Cyndi, Nana, Zoe, Ronnie, Wade, and Bartholomew."

"Dude, that's like listing _The Brady Bunch_ and more," Tucker muttered.

"Caboose, why didn't you stay home and call your parents?" Church turned to the dark blue Spartan and was surprised to find him sniffling and whimpering.

"D-Did Mommy and Daddy really say all that?"

"Uh, yeah…What, you didn't read this yet?"

"I can't read their handwriting."

_**KA-BAM! **_Everyone fell over in anime-style.

Doc sat up and massaged his head, "And you went back to the army because…?"

"I wanted to find someone who can read it to me, but I remembered Mommy and Daddy telling me never to talk to strangers. I thought that my friends could help, so…"

"You followed us," Church finished his sentence. His face had the word "disbelief" written all over it.

"Hey, Strawberry Shortcake," Sarge glanced toward Donut, who was standing in the dark side of the cell, "What're you doing hiding in the shadows like that? Come on out."

Grif made a lopsided grin, "Yeah, I'd love to hear this next story."

Donut, though, didn't seem like he was willing to share. He had one hand cradling his other elbow and kept his eyes from making direct contact. "Sorry, guys, but I think I'll pass," he spoke softly.

"Oh, come on," coaxed Sister, "We already told our stories. Join in the fun."

"My story isn't funny."

Doc persuaded, "Well if yours is so serious, you should probably tell us, or at least one of us. It's not healthy holding it all in."

When everyone voiced their agreement with Doc, Donut said sharply, "I don't want to tell!"

"…"

"Uh!" Donut gasped, then looked away. His cheeks were red from embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I just don't really feel like sharing right now."

Some minutes passed until Sarge declared, "Let's just get back to finding a way out of here. Tiger's asleep." Napping at his station, the "tiger," or rather the security guard, had his head cushioned on the console with his arms sprawled across it like an octopus. Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth as he snored.

"Geez, talk about being cocky," Grif grimaced, "It's like he thinks one measly force field can keep us at bay."

Simmons concurred, "Yeah. Once we get out of here, I propose we take his gun and shove it up his ass."

"And I'm gonna do the shoving," Church glowered at the guard and made motions with his arms like you would when rolling up your sleeves. He still hasn't forgotten what the guard did to him.

"Y'know, this is kinda random, but I think I gotta say it now," Tucker said abruptly, "There's something weird going on with you two."

Simmons questioned his meaning, "Huh? Who're you talking about?"

"You and Church! In our last mission, you went crazy and almost killed that Brute Chieftain. And Church went nuts twice; first at Mars, and then just earlier when he punched holes in the ship."

Grif assented, "Yeah. Lately you guys been acting kind of, I dunno, aggressive. You weren't like this back at Blood Gulch."

"…" everyone stared the cobalt and maroon Spartans, both of which wriggled uncomfortably in their places.

Then Caboose eyed them, "Are you guys going through puberty?"

"I think it's safe to say we're too old to be still in puberty, Caboose," Church said dully.

Doc queried, "Then what's the problem?"

Church leaned backward, holding the same amount of confusion as the others, "How should I know?" He tapped the back of his head against the wall.

"_**You got mail!"**_

"AH! What—?" Church fell over, startled by the sudden noise that rung through his ears. The Reds and Blues cried, "Huh? What's wrong?"

Scraping his fingers at the back of his head, Church extracted the data chip he had stored in his helmet. A beam of light shot out from the chip and hit the floor. In that targeted area, a hologram shimmered into view. It fritzed a few times but was able to make a decent projection. A projection of someone they thought they would never see again.

"Dr. Pavlovla!"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: CITADEL EXTERIOR, THE ARK**

Again, at the same time as the Reds and Blues are chatting…

"_Hmm. This may be a problem."_

At the outer rim of the Citadel's premises, O'Malley/Lopez scrutinized the vast alien army from atop a range of snowcapped cliffs. Their initial strategy was to sneak into the Control Center and avoid as much confrontation as possible. However, the closer they reach their destination, the harder it is to stick to the plan. As a robot Spartan with two Elites and another Spartan in tow, the Covenant Loyalists kept mistaking them as the enemy. The only reason Tex and the Elites helped fight them off is because they don't want to die either. But now having a massive army to contend with, O'Malley has hit a roadblock.

"_Well, in the famous words of the buffoon who made this quote, desperate times call for desperate measures." _He spoke into his COM, _"Wyoming! I require some assistance!"_

Concealed beneath the snow, the white Freelancer rose up a few feet from them and saluted, "You called?"

"_Yes. How many clones do you have now?"_

"Five. Why do you ask?"

"_I'm going to need a lot more if I intend to breach that Citadel."_

While the two were occupied in their scheming, Tex was devising an escape plan with Junior and Y'tzu. "Junior, I know you're worried about your mom—I mean, dad, but we have to focus on getting away from O'Malley first," she spoke fast, "Now, on the count of three, we jump them, okay?"

Junior warbled, _"Honk honk?"_

Tex exhaled hurriedly, "_On_ three."

"_Blarg."_

"One…two…"

The unwary Wyoming was still carrying on with O'Malley, "And what about our lovely Violet? Are you sure we can trust her? After all, she did steal—"

"THREE!" (_"BLARG!"_)

Tex and the two Elites roped Wyoming and O'Malley with their energy chains and dragged them down onto the snow. Expecting an escape attempt, Wyoming hailed his clones through his COM, "Rise, men! They're getting away!" Popping out of the snow like daisies, the four Wyomings had the escapees completely surrounded. Tex and the Elites stood back to back, ready to take on their captors.

"_Give it up, Tex. You're outnumbered and weaponless. What hope do you have against us?"_

"I don't know, O'Malley," Tex made a wry smirk, "You're the A.I. What do your calculations tell you?"

Lashing the chain around like a lasso, she summoned her brute strength, picked up Junior and Y'tzu off the ground, and swung them into two of the Wyoming clones. The Elites' strong hooves kicked the clones clear off their feet, making them collide into the other two clones. _"You idiots! Get them!" _O'Malley ordered and unsheathed a fuel rod cannon.

_Ugh. Hate dodging those things. _Tex picked up two caseless SMGs from the clones, shot out the energy chains, and fired at O'Malley. The A.I. robot ducked behind a rock and pointed his cannon around the edge. "GET DOWN!" Tex tackled the Elites, barely missing a bolt of radioactive gel. Taking no time to think, the black-armored Freelancer rolled from her stomach onto her back and pelted the rock with suppressing fire.

"Junior, Y'tzu! Go on ahead! I'll catch up!" she yelled to the other captives.

Y'tzu rose up, hammered a hoof down one of the clones that were trying to get up, and jacked its plasma rifle. He turned and seized Junior by the arm and hauled him toward safety, shooting the clones dead as he went. The real Wyoming, who was playing dead, directed his assault rifle at the passing Elite. Seeing the sneaky Spartan's movement, Junior pushed Y'tzu and both fell to the ground. As they fell, bullets whizzed through the gap between them. One pinched Y'tzu on the hip, spilling purple blood all over the contrasting white snow.

"_Worrrt!"_

"_HONK!"_

Junior got to his feet, took up the last clone's assault rifle, and shot back at Wyoming. "Stubborn bugger!" the white Freelancer used one of his clone carcasses as a shield and tossed out a sonic grenade. At the exact moment it went off, a loud buzzing sound flooded Junior's ears. _"Blarrrrrrg!" _he covered his ears, tripped over a corpse, and landed on his bottom.

Hearing the sound from a distance, Tex looked up and saw her fallen comrades, "Junior! Y'tzu!" She threw a frag grenade at O'Malley to buy herself some time and rushed over to the Elites. _"AH! Grenade!" _O'Malley/Lopez dove away from the rock just as the grenade detonated.

"Ha ha ha ha! Too easy!" Wyoming came over to Junior, rendered him unconscious with a hit from his rifle butt, and slung the Elite's body over his shoulder.

"Not so fast, Wyoming!"

Wyoming smiled to himself, and then turned to face his deadly rival. Her M7s were trained precisely on his heart. "My, my, Tex. This isn't like you at all," he leered, "Why, in normal circumstances, you would run and save your own skin."

"'In normal circumstances.' Don't treat me like I don't know anything. That kid is a Reclaimer."

The white Freelancer sighed, "I guess I can never pull the wool over your eyes, Tex darling."

"Don't call me 'darling'," said Tex warningly.

"Why? Because only your boyfriend calls you that? Oh! Correction. **Ex**-boyfriend. And I put a lot of stress on the ex- part, because he's never coming back. Ho ho ho ho."

The vein on Tex's temple pulsed, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying he's gone! Utterly gone from this world. No doubt the Flood's already gotten to him—"

_**Zchh! **_A bullet grazed the side of his helmet. Wyoming's smile transformed into a frown.

"You never were good at lying, Wyoming," Tex spoke in a cold voice.

"You think I'm lying? Ask O'Malley, he'll tell you all about how he left your boyfriend and his pals stranded in the middle of that Flood-infested Area 51."

Tex opened her mouth but couldn't find the words to speak. He's not lying, she can tell. Whenever they play poker games, he would always flex his fingers when he's bluffing, and right now, his hands are as straight as a board. The hydrostatic gel in her MJOLNIR armor is designed to regulate her temperature, but without it, her body would've been entirely soaked in sweat. What if he's right? What if her idiots and jerks _are_ dead or mutated into one of those disgusting creatures? What if…What if Church really is gone for good? She could go back to Mars, go check and see if what Wyoming says is true. But so much time has passed since they left. There's no way they'll still be alive…

"Hn hn hn," Wyoming snickered, "Well. You can chew on that news for as long as you like, 'cause where you're going…" He aimed his gun at her, "…you'll have all eternity to think about it." With that said, he let loose a burst from his assault rifle.

Three bullets came at her at full speed. In her eyes, however, they were moving a snail's pace. She glanced down at her near-empty SMGs. If Church and the others really are dead, then the only thing she can do now is pull out and come back for Junior later. It's the least she can do for them.

She sidestepped to evade the first bullet, used the metallic side of one SMG to deflect the second, and fired a bullet back to negate the third. All this happened in less than a second.

"Damn!" Wyoming cursed, finding his magazine already spent.

Tex scooped Y'tzu around the waist and ran, shooting behind her as she went. Cursing even more, Wyoming laid flat on the snow to elude her attack and began reloading his gun. Once he finished, he moved to follow her, but O'Malley barked, _"Stop! Let her go."_

"B-But…!"

"_We have the kid. He's all we'll need."_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Tucker looked at Church funny, "Did you just say 'Pavwovwa'?"

The cobalt soldier rolled his eyes, "No, I said 'Pavlovla'. What're you, deaf?"

"I heard you said 'Pavwovwa' too," Sister admitted, along with the other Blood Gulchers.

Church sweatdropped, "Really? No way! You guys are all deaf!"

Simmons signaled them to be quiet, "Hey, shut up. She's talking!"

"…**March 2, 2553. Military time, 1930. Hello, my Spartans…"**

_This message was made yesterday, when we were at Area 51!_ Church wrinkled his forehead in thought.

"**If you have received this message, that must mean I'm already dead. I trust by now you have reviewed all the contents of this data chip."**

Church sucked his bottom lip, "Whoops."

"**My death was foretold a long time ago, when we brought in the first shipment of Flood. I knew what I've done was dangerous, but it was necessary to your survival."**

"Huh…?" the Reds and Blues glanced at each other.

"**You see, even Master Chief's armor is too weak against the Flood. But through the experiments conducted by our scientists, we were able to improve your armor. The matte-black alloy is now denser to prevent penetration from infection forms. And, as long as you wear your armor, your ability to defy physics is increased by a factor of 5."**

Tucker raised a finger, "Say what?"

Dr. Pavlovla's hologram giggled, **"Heh heh. I know you guys always say 'This isn't physically possible'. Well, that's because around you, for some bizarre reason, things that don't normally happen do happen and the impossible becomes possible. Based on this unique quality, that is how we sifted out our potential 2.5s from the average enlistees."**

"Aww," Sarge grinned, "She's saying we're special."

Grif muttered sarcastically, "In what way? In how we're like frickin' cartoon characters?"

Caboose hopped up and down happily and clapped his hands, "Ooh! Ooh! I love Looney Tunes! I really like it when they use that donut hole thing! Those guys are geniuses."

"**Much to my regret though, when the first time I brought you guys in, our director, Admiral Ferrell, wasn't impressed and wanted you all biologically augmented just like the Spartan-IIs. He believed a soldier should be based more on strength and skill than luck. Anyway, he had you injected with a lot of drugs, including one that heightens your aggression levels. Many of the subjects—excuse me—Spartans' bodies have rejected the drug and died."**

"Oh my God! We could've _died_!" Simmons gasped.

"**The ones that passed became the Freelancers. The ones that survived but failed to control or apply their aggression were shipped to our artificial Halo, divvied up into two armies, and had their memories altered so that they believe they are in the middle of a civil war. This is the director and the Board of Trustees' idea to put further research into their failures and use the information they've collected to create the perfect Spartan. As you have realized by now, you are in the failure category."**

Church stood up in flash, "Those God damn cockbites! They're the reason we were stuck in that fucking canyon!"

"**You are probably right now blaming the director and the Board, but I too should share a part in that blame. Most recently, when you came to Area 51, Matthias and I had implanted an aggression booster chip in Church and Simmons's bodies."**

Both Church and Simmons simultaneously dropped their jaws, "WHAT?"

"**I did it to ensure your survival, in case you should ever come across the Flood."**

"Bet she didn't count on the Flood escaping that day," Grif pursed his lips.

"Well, I appreciate her concern, but I don't like going crazy," Church huffed. He took off his helmet and swished his hand around in his hair. Simmons inquired, "What are you doing?"

He answered without looking at him, "I'm gonna take out the chip."

The maroon soldier cried, "What? But what happens if you take out the wrong stuff? You can really mess up your brain!"

"Look, I was THIS close to getting an aneurysm!" Church held up a closely connected index finger and thumb, "Twice! It's thoughtful what she's doing, but this is just overkill…Ah! Got it!" He felt something bulging from the base of his skull and ripped it out. Electricity sparked from the now open socket and the chip. "Whoo! That feels _much_ better!" His entire body appeared much more relaxed and his expression content and hassle-free.

Simmons stared at Church for a moment, then turned to his pink comrade, "Hey, Donut, can I borrow your compact?"

This request brought life back into the pink soldier. "Oh, Simmons, I didn't know you like Maybelline too!" his face shined with delight, "But if you're really fond of that compact, you should get their blush. It's really handy stuff, especially if you're going to a meet—"

"Donut, please, just gimme your compact."

After pushing his hair around a bit and using the compact's mirror to see, he located the chip on the side of his head, buried deep in his cyborg implants. Giving it a couple tugs, he then tore the chip out. "Whew! Yeah, that _does_ feel good!"

Sarge glimpsed toward the hologram and then poked the others, "Hey, ladies, while you were all playing 'Barbie', the doc lady was speeching."

"…**say this once more. Don't let the director get his hands on Sheila. She holds all the research on the 2.5s…"**

"'Don't let'…? …Hey!" Church finally shook out of his dreamlike state, "That's what she was trying to tell us before she died!"

"…**I don't know what's going to happen once he completes them, but, whatever you do, don't let that happen! Sheila's the only thing standing between him and activating them. I know I'm asking you a lot, but please...for the sake of humanity, take this mission!"**

A beeping noise could be heard in the background of the message. **"It looks like I have to go now." **Dr. Pavlovla then smiled her warmest, kindest smile, **"…I want you all to know right now how proud I am of you. You are the best Spartans anyone could ever ask for, and…I'm glad they put you in my care. I'll miss you all. Good luck…and goodbye. **_**End message**_**."**

No one talked. For the longest time, no one even made a sound. With all this fighting and stress from chasing O'Malley, they nearly forgot about the doc lady's untimely death and the caring words she spoke to them. They didn't know her very well, but somehow, in some inexplicable way, she has managed to make a profound imprint in their memories. But how can a stranger, who they only knew for a few hours, affect them so much? Was it her personality? Was it because she played a role in screwing up their lives? No. It was her odd sense of compassion, her love. Something that people don't give very easily among strangers.

But the point of this message was not to gush over them with love. It was the call to a new mission. Somebody has made this mess, and they are now making an even bigger mess. They have hurt and killed so many people, and changed so many lives. That director and his "Board of Trustees"…

It's simple to identify a problem, but the question is, how should they solve it? Should they inform the UNSC? No, they think they're insane now. And if they tell their families and friends, it'll only result in another bloody Insurrection.

Then what _could_ they do? Fight them on their own? It seems that the more they learn about this Spartan conspiracy, the more they wish they never knew.

Doc cocked an eyebrow, "Wait. What was that about 'activating them'? Who's 'them'?"

"Let's see if we can rewind the message," Church searched the chip for any buttons.

"_**This message will self-destruct in 1 second."**_

"What?"

_**POW! **_The chip exploded in Church's hand and he fell backwards in surprise, "WAH!" The loud ruckus had almost woken up the guard. He snorted and shifted in his sleep, "…Yeah, I'm available…"

"Shit!" Church groaned and got up, "Whatever happened to giving 10 seconds like in those spy movies?"

"This isn't good," Doc summed up their situation, "The doc lady wants us to go on another mission. But we can't go anyway because we have inadequate knowledge of said mission, now that the chip's destroyed."

Caboose asked the one question everybody is thinking, "Soooooo, what now?"

Church answered, "We stick to the original plan. Break out and save Tex and Junior."

"Good idea," Grif looked to the rest of the group, "Any plans?"

"I know!" Sarge spoke on cue, "We strip Grif and throw him into the force field and hopefully his fat will disperse among the electrical particles and insulate them, causing them to lose shape and evaporate the field. Ohhh, I'm so clever, I surprise myself sometimes!"

Church sweatdropped again, "Is that even possible?"

Tucker shrugged, "Hey, like the doc lady said, anything's possible with us."

Grif didn't look too happy with this idea, though, "Any _other_ plans that don't result in my death?"

Then Donut asked Tucker, "Hey. Didn't you say you stashed some cool stuff in here that could save us?"

The aqua Spartan pondered over this, then cried, "Oh, yeah! Yeah, and I hid it right in this cell! I thought this place was a locker room, so—"

"A locker room without lockers?" Church stared at him boringly.

"Yeah, that's when I thought something funny was going on, but when these panel things came out…" Tucker tore one of the rectangular panels off the wall, "…it looked like the perfect hiding place." Inside a cubbyhole were two dark objects. One was small and other super large. Tucker took out the small object first. "I got this stuff off of that Brute Chieftain. It was a good thing I did it too, 'cause look what I managed to get back!"

He activated a button on it and a bright glow glistened around the object and formed a long blue plasma blade. Tucker was wearing the biggest grin Church had ever seen, "_The Return of the Jedi_!"

"Cool! You got your sword back!" Sister praised.

Church waved the sword away from his face, "Alright, that's great and all, but how's that supposed to help us?"

Tucker deactivated his sword, "Oh, this isn't the thing. I just wanted to show this off."

"Tucker! We're running out of time!" the cobalt soldier shouted in exasperation.

"Okay, here! This is it. Huuuuuuuu…" the Blue lugged out the last, and enormous, melee weapon.

"Whoa! You swiped his Gravity Hammer?" Simmons gaped.

"U-Uh huh. Uhmm…" Tucker grunted, "Can y'all help me with this? It's kinda heavy!"

All the Reds and Blues took hold of the handle. Sarge guided the assault, "Okay, on three!"

"THREE!" they swung the Hammer backward. Unfortunately, they swung it too far back and smashed it through the wall behind them. The ship's alarm blared on all decks. ("Uh, oh." – Tucker) It was then the guard woke up.

"HUH!—WHUH?" he got up with a start and caught the Spartans in the act, "Hey, how did you—?"

"QUICK! FORWARD!" Church yelled, and the Blood Gulchers wrenched the Hammer out of the wall and brought it down on the force field.

_**BZZZAT! **_Light burst forth and blinded the guard. "Aghh!" he screened his eyes with his arms. The barrier flashed twice and fizzled out.

As he gradually regained his sight, the guard blinked several times before being able to make out the bluish haze in front of him. "…?"

Church greeted him with a toothy smile, "'Sup?"

The last thing the guard saw was a fist.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: CITADEL AIRSPACE, THE ARK**

**: _SHADOW OF INTENT_**

The Master Chief did it. The third tower has been disabled and the barrier protecting Truth has fallen. Now is the time to strike.

Eager for battle, Rtas clutched the arms of his chair and said in his COM, "Now, Prophet…your end has come."

Suddenly, a Slipspace rift rippled over the Ark. A _huge_ rotund structure surfaced from it and plunged through the air, descending as it went. Positioned at the bridge, N'tho and Usze had a front row seat of the view along with their Shipmaster.

"Say, isn't that…?" Usze pointed at the flying structure and tracked it with his finger.

Rtas breathed in awe, "High Charity…"

"?" spotting an inbound dot on the horizon, N'tho narrowed his eyes and then widened them to size of dinner plates. Having his eyes glued to the growing dot, he fumbled his hands on Rtas's arm and rapidly shook it.

"What, what—? …!" the Shipmaster then noticed it too, "By the gods! Brace for impact!"

A chunk of debris from High Charity streaked like a rocket and cleaved through the _Shadow of Intent_'s hull.

Witnessing this from a window on the Third Barrier Tower, Master Chief could only helplessly look on as the Covenant Carrier dipped toward the earth below. Just when he thought that all he could do was stand and watch, one of the raining fragments splintered and a piece strayed for him. He ducked his head as the rock shattered the upper part of the window above him and skimmed into the room. _Not again…_ He did an about-face and primed his weapon, aware of what's to come.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	14. Living in a lie within a lie

Yeah. This was long overdue.

And yeah, I know I made a lot of mistakes in the previous 13 chapters (like the Reds and Blues being able to see each other's facial expressions despite still wearing their helmets), sooooo… I'll fix those later, I guess… .;

Anyhow, as predictable as it would be for me to finish this along the same lines of the Halo 3 ending, I thought it would be more creative to put a little deviation to the story. Enjoy.

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects**

_Episode 14: Living in a lie within a lie_

**: LANDING ZONE, THE ARK**

**: **_**FORWARD UNTO DAWN**_

The ground quaked beneath them. The ship's alarms were blaring at red alert. Soldiers ran by in the corridors ahead, each shouting orders and equipping themselves with weapons and gear. Watching this all from a darkened maintenance access way, an unsettling knot twisted in Church's biomechanical insides. Something was wrong and the cause is not of their jailbreak.

"My feet are shaking," Caboose gazed down at his vibrating boots. When he rested the Gravity Hammer on the floor (Tucker gave it to him because it was too heavy and bulky and not sexy-looking), it shook as well. "Now my Hammer is shaking too."

Donut trailed his eyes after a heavy-loaded Marine, "Man, they must be really mad at us. That guy's carrying a flamethrower!"

"No…" Church adjusted his helmet back on, double checked his ammo counter and kept his ears open for announcements on the P.A. system, "…They're scared, of something else."

Sarge side-glanced at him, "Scared of what? The Brutes? Bah! These guys are all just a buncha yellow-bellied—"

On the button, one soldier came up to one of his friends right in front of the access way. The darkness of the tunnel was all that kept the two Marines from seeing them. "Any signs of them yet?"

"Negative. But I heard some of those rocks landed in the valleys near here," the other replied. Then, someone on the P.A. finally said, **"All hands, prepare for launch."**

When the Marines left, a baffled Doc turned to the other Spartans, "Rocks? They're afraid of _rocks_?"

Grif abruptly retired the subject, "Who cares what they're afraid of? We should be worrying about other things, like how we're gonna get off this ship!"

"Well, we can always borrow a Pelican from the launch bay," Tucker suggested as he moved on ahead, "I'm sure they won't miss one."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"**Shipmaster's Carrier is out of commission, Chief. I need you to take down Truth. The Flood's just going to put pressure on him and accelerate his plans. Punch through the cliffs! Get inside that Citadel!"**

Washington switched off his radio and set his sights toward the colossal angular structure jutting out from the wintry backdrop behind him. _The Flood…Hmm. The director mentioned something about this, but he really didn't go into any detail. Well, in any case, this just means I'll have to be careful. _He speedily analyzed the notes forwarded to him by the ONI spies posted near the Silent Cartographer. The information they gathered was a big help in tracking down OMEGA. However, according to their accounts, it was not them who discovered the rampant A.I.'s location; rather, all credit goes to a ragtag group of Reds and Blues.

_Reds and Blues…? What are those simulation guys doing here? _He was certain the director told him that all the Reds and Blues were sent back to Earth and its colonies. Most were put into rehabilitation and the rest had either gone home or were stationed as local militia. Due to the configuration done to their neural implants, any official military regime should refuse their enlistment. So how did these guys get in?

Before he could contemplate this any further something body-slammed him from the back. "AUGH!" He cried out and was mashed face-first into the snow. His assailant began to pummel at his spine, beating him to death. Washington reached for his dropped battle rifle and edged it toward him with his fingertips. After a couple unsuccessful tugs, he finally grabbed hold of it by one hand and filled half-a-clip into the assailant. The thing howled like a wounded animal and flopped on top of his back. Juices and gore saturated the Recovery agent's armor.

Pushing the body off of him, Washington rose and took a good look at his attacker. Needless to say, it was the most nastiest thing he had ever seen. Like some monster or freak experiment out of a videogame. Most likely this is the Flood the director had told him about.

His motion sensors then picked up more red dots heading in his direction. Perhaps its friends heard its dying call. Whatever they may be, he sure as hell do not want to find out.

He skated down the cliff and stumbled upon a company of Grunts and Brutes fending off more of those vicious creatures. Carefully avoiding detection, he snuck over to a Prowler that was flipped upside-down, rolled it onto its runners, and hit zero-to-ninety for the Citadel. His thievery, however, didn't go unnoticed. The other Prowlers fired blue plasma shots at him, nicking his vehicle and damaging the left passenger seat. If it weren't for the Flood, they would've gone after him in hot pursuit.

"That was close," he gazed back at the retreating Prowlers.

When he returned his vision to the front, he found someone sitting in the gunner position. Instinctively, he aimed his rifle at them, but the stranger spoke before he could pull the trigger.

"Are you going to kill me, Wash?"

Washington's finger froze. He recognized this voice. "Tex? How…? What…? …You're supposed to be captured by OMEGA."

The black-armored Freelancer turned in her seat and said in an insulted tone, "Really, Wash, you think I go down that easily?"

"No, it's just…" Washington was still taking in her sudden appearance, "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

Tex then faced forward and fiddled with the weapon controls, "O'Malley was trying to use me to activate…the Ark." She finished her sentence while casually taking down a few pursuing Drones and Jackals, "Whatever he was planning, it was just another one of his world domination plans, so I could care less." Then, she gestured down at the Elite sleeping in the passenger seat on the right, "Anyway, this alien and I escaped, but we still have a problem."

Her last statement made Washington feel like there was something more to be said. "And what's that?"

"First you tell me why _you're_here."

"You make it sound like I'm a bad guy."

"Well, you are still working for the director, am I right?"

Washington tightened his grip on the wheel. Sharp as always. "In a way, yes. But I have my reasons."

Tex waited for an explanation. When she didn't get one, she pressed on like the subject never existed, "You heading to the Citadel?"

"Yeah. My orders were to find O'Malley."

"Then I guess we can work together. For now."

Her indirectness was throwing him off. She is hiding something. As much as he would like to touch on the matter further, he knows better than to ask. Tex is not one to fancy being questioned, be it by friend or foe. The last person who did ended up in a body cast. With this in mind, Washington figured it would be best to not get on her bad side. "Looking for some payback?"

"That and I have a kid to save."

"Wait, you have a _kid_?"

"Just shut up and drive."

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"So, uhh, how are we gonna get across this area undetected? Any ideas?" Simmons asked the other soldiers squeezed around him in the shadowed maintenance tunnel. Beyond the hatched sliding door ahead of them is a launch bay chock full of Marines, crewmembers, aliens, cargo, ships, and lots and lots of weapons and artillery. The plan to hijack a Pelican seems less than possible now with so many eyes watching for escaped Spartans.

The Reds and Blues slowly backed up and hid themselves in the shadows to avoid being seen.

"Oh, gee, I dunno, Simmons," Church's voice heavy with cynicism as he turned his head toward his fellow Blue's general direction, "Hey, Tucker, this was your idea. What do you suppose we do now?"

Tucker shrugged, "C'mon man, it was only a suggestion. Y'all went with it."

At that moment, a loud explosive sound went off throughout the ship. Everything quaked violently and the bulkhead shuddered under duress. The Reds and Blues all cried out and stumbled about against the walls and onto their knees. The hull moaned and creaked noisily as a telling of how damaged the ship is.

"—!" Donut squealed and quivered in fear with his hands over the back of his head and his visor pressed to the floor.

When the floor became less shaky, some of them pulled themselves up with the help of the close walls around them and looked about in confusion.

"What the fuck just hit us?" Church took hold the wall to steady himself once more when more vibrations rippled through the ship.

Tucker moved two steps forward and peered down the tunnel before them. At the end of it past the doors revealed panicking crewmembers scampering this way and that. Even more ominous than this sight was what happened after that.

"_THEY GOT IN! QUICK! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" _screamed some of the frightened crew. All of them stampeded in one direction like fleeing deer from a predator.

The Reds and Blues literally almost jumped out of their armor when a Flood combat form pounced out of nowhere onto one unlucky crewman and began dismembering him and eating his face. Right in front of the doors of the maintenance shaft.

"Sweet Sasquatch!" a startled Sarge shouted.

Much to everyone's dismay, the Red leader's yell alerted the combat form. It glimpsed up instantly and bolted into the hatched doors, ramming into them. Everyone on the other side of those doors yelped and backpedaled with weapons drawn at it as the monster continued to repeatedly smash itself against the doors.

"L-Look! It can't get through!" Simmons nervously tried to reassure the others as well as himself.

However, when the doors began to give way, Tucker squawked, "Wanna bet?"

More combat creatures flocked the exit behind the ramming Flood form, crushing their hopes of having to only take down one enemy. The tunnel echoed with the sound of tearing metal of the weakening threshold.

"Fuck this, RUN!" Grif turned tail, threw up his hands in the air, and ran like the dickens in the opposite direction. For once, everyone had to agree and followed suit, wailing as they retreated along with the orange soldier.

Making it to the other end of the shaft, they were met with the mutant roars of even more incoming combat forms approaching them.

"Holy mother—! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the Reds and Blues flailed and about faced, running back the same way they came. Only, they were stopped again by the arrival of the Flood coming from the launch bay.

Grif huddled to the floor in defeat, "This is it! We're zombie food!"

"Grif, fire your weapon, you gutless wimp!" Sarge ordered as he opened fire on the Flood with his trusty shotgun. The others, and a reluctant Grif, also fired upon the encroaching monsters, seeing as how they had quickly ran out of options. Doc was the only one hiding in the middle of the group like a scared child.

"I don't wanna be eaten!" the medic bawled and curled up on the floor.

Simmons howled over the din, "Sir, there's too many! We're not gonna survive this!"

"FIRE! FIRE ALL YA GOT!" Sarge hollered at the top of his lungs.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Huh? What?"

The Prowler Washington and Tex were riding on suddenly flickered once like a ghostly image. When the vehicle blipped again, Washington attempted to push some buttons.

"What the hell? It's not responding to me!"

"LOOK OUT!" Tex jumped out of her seat to the side and rolled across the snow.

Washington glanced up and saw the fast approaching rock outcrop and leapt from his seat as well. The Prowler collided with the rocks; but instead of blowing to pieces, it halted at impact, flashed and disappeared.

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

SECURITY BREACH DETECTED.

HOLO TRAINING GROUND 0019 SYSTEM FAILING.

REBOOTING SYSTEM.

LOADING… 1% complete…

"_You ever wonder why we're here?"_

26% complete…

"_We are in the future, things are very shiny here!"_

69% complete…

"_Bow chicka bow wow!"_

70% complete…

…

ERROR. SCANNING SYSTEM. PLEASE STAND BY…

SEARCHING FILES…

…

…

…

…

…

…FILE [CLASSIFIED] IS CORRUPTED. ATTEMPTING QUARANTINE…

SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!  
SYSTEM FAILURE!

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

Sister's magnum clicked empty as the last bullet casing dropped to the floor. Soon after, one by one, each soldier's weapon ran out of ammo. Tucker and Caboose tried melee attacks on the hideous monsters, but were shortly overwhelmed.

"AHHH! It's got me!" Doc shrieked when a combat form tackled him.

Three of the Flood forms pushed and pinned Sarge to the wall. The only thing keeping them from gnawing on his bones is the spent shotgun he put between them.

Everyone else fell to a similar fate, each brought down by the rabid snarling creatures.

Grif yelped while being pummeled by four more combat forms, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

Just when it seemed like death had arrived for the Reds and Blues, Caboose's body glimmered like a hologram.

"Huh?" the blue soldier took a glimpse at his hand, which fizzled and intermittently fade from sight. Soon, each flicker momentarily blinded him. Dark, light, dark, light.

"Wha-what's going on? Hey—!" a voice of panic rose from Tucker as he too began to shimmer away along with the others, including the Flood and their surroundings.

Witnessing all his teammates and rivals strange disappearance, Church whipped his head from side to side desperately searching for them. As much as he hated those guys, the sudden lack of familiar company and, even more so, everything going into oblivion scared him.

"What the hell? Caboose? Tucker? Guys?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

—SYSTEM TERMINATING—

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	15. There is no spork

"Shit just got real." – Detective Marcus Burnett, _Bad Boys 2_

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects**

_Episode 15: There is no spo__rk_

A cold numbing feeling greeted Caboose the moment he regained consciousness. His eyelids pried open and he viewed the area with half-closed eyes, his vision still blurred as if he had not opened his eyes in a long time. All he could tell was that he was completely naked and encased in some kind of small pod with a decorative frost covering the body-length window in front of him. Whenever he exhaled, puffs of icy clouds exited his mouth. With considerable effort, Caboose moved his arms and in turn discovered how difficult it was to even twitch his pinky finger. He splayed his hands across the window's surface, pushed with all his strength, and managed to lift the heavy container lid up, releasing himself from his little prison.

Poking his head out and taking in his surroundings, Caboose realized that his pod was not the only one in the cavernous steel box room. Lined up next to his pod were many other pods alike his own and each were similarly frost-covered. He could not see who or if there was somebody in each of the other pods.

He called out in a hoarse rasp, "…H…He…Hello…? I-Is any…wha-wha-wha…one th-there?"

No answer.

Caboose then climbed out of his pod, also with much effort, and slipped and fell onto the metal grated floor. "Oof! Ow," he groaned and got up while rubbing his head.

Another moan, followed by more grumbling, emitted from the other pods around him. Some of the other pods' lids came ajar and out popped up Sarge, Grif, Simmons, Donut, Doc, Sister, and Tucker. All of which were also naked.

"Man… I had the funkiest dream ever. I dreamt there were monsters from another world trying to eat us in a gauntlet of death and—HOOOHHHH SNAP! Bow chicka bow wow!" Tucker gaped at Sister's curvaceous body with a joyous look on his face.

"What are you—? Heystopgawkingatmysister!" Grif stepped in between Tucker and Sister with outspread arms.

"Awwww, my God! Dude! That was totally unnecessary!" Tucker shielded his sights from gazing upon Grif's obesity.

"Whoa! We're naked! Why are we all _naked_?" Simmons, while still inside his pod, hugged himself against the side to avoid having his private parts seen.

Donut, however, doesn't seem to mind this surprise, "Wow! I was wondering why I felt so drafty. Hey, Sarge! Looking good there! Nice muscle structure."

Not finding any of this amusing, the Red leader's cheeks went beet red; not out of embarrassment, but outrage. "What on earth is going on here? How did we get here? We were kicking the snot out of the Flood—!"

"No, we were getting our asses handed to us, unless you were having delusions of grandeur!" Grif retorted, along with the afterthought, "Sir."

Caboose piped up, "Were we all having the same dream? 'Cause I was dreaming that I was saving Church with a really big hammer and—" He then gasped and searched about frantically, "Church! Where is Church? Church! Church! Churchchurchchurchchurch! Chuuuuurrrrrchhhh! Church! CccHHHuuuUUUrrrCCChhh—!"

"He's not here, numb nuts," Tucker interrupted Caboose's incessant shouting.

"Where is 'here' anyway?" Doc gestured at their unfamiliar environment. He then noticed Donut's awkward advances in his direction and slowly edged away behind the safety of Sarge.

Simmons glanced at the monitor beside his own pod and did a quick read, "I don't know where we are, but it looks like there was a malfunction with the system. That's why it was forced to wake us up from cryo stasis."

"Wait, so Caboose was right?" Grif asked, "We were all dreaming the same dream or something?"

"No. We were in some kind of virtual reality simulation program."

Sister interjected, "Hey! I think I remember that in a movie somewhere!"

Simmons went on to say, "This program goes over an event in history during the Battle of Installation 00, which was, according to this, several months ago from our present time."

Sarge peered at the data streams running on the small screen, "And who are the dirtbags who put us in there?"

Before Simmons could answer, a voice with a slight Southern accent spoke over them, "The 'dirtbags' who put you in there…are us."

High above them and on the opposite side of the room on a second level balcony are two men in dark gray and black uniforms with a handful of armed white soldiers in ODST-like armor by their sides. The one that was talking to them had the top half of his face hidden in the shade. Despite it being semi-cloaked, they could make out a few facial features, such as his pale skin, clean cut brown hair with a short beard connected with a mustache, and the rectangular glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stared down at them expectantly. Obviously, this man was their leader.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tucker demanded.

"No one you need to know," replied the mysterious gentleman, "In fact, there are many things you should not need to know, yet here you are prematurely removed from your training program and having to see all of this." He flourished a hand at the various pods that filled the room below him. "No, all you need to know is that you are Red and Blue simulation troops and that you are in charge of protecting your respective bases and property from the opposing team."

Sarge stood solidly like a stone wall between the Reds and Blues and the strangers above them. Squaring his shoulders, he gruffly accosted their supposed wardens, "Now just hold it there. We heard that the Red and Blue armies do not exist! And now you're telling me they do?"

"That is as much as you were told since day one, isn't it, sergeant?" the other darker-skinned man finally spoke up.

"Well, yes, but—" Sarge's stony façade quickly evaporated under scrutiny.

"Are you questioning your orders, sergeant?"

"Yes—I mean, no! I mean—"

The man with glasses spoke again, "Enough! You are to come quietly with us now. We will return you to your proper Red and Blue training bases."

"Um, can we please have some clothes first? Or even our armor back?" Simmons was still trying to conceal his body as best as possible, feeling especially humiliated being watched by so many people.

"GWAH!" one of the white soldiers fell off the balcony as if someone had hit him from the back. His body bounced and skidded on the floor in front of the Reds and Blues.

Grif began to say, "What the fu—?" but paused when yet more soldiers rained down onto the level below. The bone-crunching noises of their bodies crashing onto the metallic floor made some of the Reds and Blues wince.

A rest of the remaining white soldiers encircled the two VIPs in an endeavor to protect them. One held out a hand like a barrier, "Sir, stay behind us! GAH—AHHH!" His arm was skewered by a combat knife.

The man with glasses started forward, "Carolina! I've should've known."

"Hello, Director. Long time no see," greeted their unexpected guest. This newcomer wore light blue armor with silver trim and possessed a svelte, yet strong feminine physique. "Missed me?" she added with faux innocence as she kept both her magnums trained on the white soldiers guarding the Director.

"Baby, I missed you before I even knew you!" Tucker's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and he spread his arms out in welcome, willingly showing off his nakedness, "C'mon down and you, me, and Sister here can have a threesome!"

Carolina took a brief side-glance at the crazy son-of-a-bitch and every other sorry unclad sap in the pit and cocked an eyebrow within her helmet curiously. She then swiftly returned her attention back to the matter at hand, her index fingers never moving from their triggers. "Hmph. Never knew you leaned that way, _sir_," she stressed the "sir" part mockingly.

The Director snorted and smirked, "Do you really believe you can take me on alone?"

"These chumps won't even last 10 seconds," Carolina indicated the white soldiers with a motion from her right magnum.

"_He's talking about us."_

Carolina whipped around and found herself sandwiched between the Director and… "Washington and Maine. Why am I not surprised?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


	16. Freelancer power, ACTIVATE!

**Red vs. Blue: The Spartan Rejects**

**_Episode 16_****_: Freelancer power, ACTIVATE!_**

**: 5 MINUTES EARLIER…**

"OW! Nnghhh…Aghh…!"

Washington writhed in his virtual simulation pod as electric sparks zapped through his armor, disconnecting him from the training program. He kicked a hole in the pod window, dove out, rolled across the floor, and landed on one knee and palm. His ears deafened by the sound of alarms reverberating everywhere.

"Damn it!" he punched the ground in frustration, "Just when I almost got there!"

"_I see I'm not the only one snooping around here," _a snide female voice spoke out adjacent from his position.

_I know that voice… _"C.T.!" Washington exclaimed. He got to his feet, un-holstered his sidearm, and aimed it at the soldier in brown and white trimmed armor, all of which occurred no more than a second.

On the opposing side, the one called "C.T." already had her battle rifle targeting his chest. "I thought I told you never to call me that," she said tersely with a hint of annoyance, "Anyway, I didn't expect to see you here again of all places. Nostalgia getting the better of you, Wash?"

"I could say the same thing, _Connecticut_," the steel-and-yellow soldier came back as either party began circling the other in a sort of tense dance. "I take it you're here on some kind of mission for your Insurrectionist buddies?"

"You mind your own business, and I'll mind mine's. Just pretend you never saw me and I'll do the same," Connecticut finalized the conversation as she backed out of the room into the hallway, her gun still on him. However, when she entered the hallway, to the left of her stood an awaiting Maine.

"Oh, shi—!" but Connecticut was interrupted when the huge, burly combatant slashed at her with the massive blade on his Brute Shot. Connecticut barely avoided the most lethal part of the attack, only receiving a wide gash on her left arm. "Aghh!" she cried out and staggered away from her assailant by a few sidesteps.

Witnessing the act from within the room, Washington moved forward to intervene, holding out a hand to signal them to halt their actions, "Maine, wait!"

In preventing Maine from attacking again, Connecticut produced a flashbang grenade and hurled it into the floor at Maine's feet. A tremendous bright light and earsplitting concussion blast erupted from it, temporarily disabling Maine and Washington as the wounded Connecticut escapes with her arm cradling the other.

"Ack! Sunuva—!" Washington screened his visor with his arms and shook his head to clear the buzzing sound in his head.

Maine made an irritated growl and, once he had regained his sight and hearing, scanned the area for the runaway and tore down the hall in pursuit.

After clearing his senses, Washington followed along behind Maine while catching someone talking over a COM frequency in the radio built inside his helmet.

"**Attention, all personnel. Be on a look out for an intruder in light blue Spartan armor, threat level _massive_. Use any and all means necessary to kill them. Otherwise, prostrate yourself before the intruder, put your hands behind your head, and announce you're a pussy in a clear loud voice to note your surrender. Thank you."**

Before the order was finished, Washington already had a hunch of who the intruder was; and apparently, he was not the only one thinking that either.

"_**Agents Washington and Maine. Stop what you're doing and report to Observation Deck 17-B immediately,"**_came the voice of the Director over Washington and Maine's private COMs.

However, Maine appears to be ignoring the command as he persists in hunting down his prey. Washington, though, knows that if he were to do the same, the Director would become suspicious and his mission jeopardized.

Washington communicated to Maine through radio, "Maine, withdraw! We have to go to the Director."

An aversive snarl answered him, followed by silence.

"Maine, if you _really_ want those A.I., you'd better come with me!"

At this, the white and brown trimmed soldier hissed viciously, dug his heels in the ground and did a 180 on the spot. Not expecting him to pull past him so quickly, Washington regained his balance and once again trailed behind Maine, both freelancers heading for the Director's position. As they went, Washington could not help but look back over his shoulder toward C.T.'s departing form.

_I guess I'll have to deal with C.T. later…_

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

"Agents Washington and Maine… Kill Agent Carolina."

Carolina did not waste any time in taking action. She activates the speed unit in her suit, an armor enhancement designed to allow her move as fast as lightning and dodge every bullet fired on her. Cartwheeling off of the balcony and into the pit below, she lands in a space in the middle of the Reds and Blues.

"Crazy bitch! AHHH!" some of them cry out as they leapt, ducked, and rolled away in separate directions to avoid the gunfire raining down on them.

Chasing her down, Maine launches himself off the platform as well, flies over Carolina and bombards her with several fiery blasts from his Brute Shot. Carolina dashes to the right and runs up along the wall, magnums blazing in retaliation as she went. A few shots ricochet against Maine's shields as he catches hold of a niche in an adjacent bulkhead and trades shots back.

"Director, Counselor, I strongly suggest you get out of here. We'll take care of this!" Washington urges the small handful of white soldiers and the two VIPs to leave.

He then kicks a glowing orange barrel up towards Carolina and fires a couple short bursts from his battle rifle at the barrel just as it nears her, causing it to explode and forcing her to hop on top of one of the pods. Washington follows up his assault by firing more rounds after her as she jumps from pod to pod.

"Uh, Sarge, I don't think we want to get caught in this one," recommends Simmons while still doing his best to cover his nudity, "Advising us to go look for some armor and weapons and a place to hide?"

Sarge surveys the area and sights a locker room beside their virtual sim quarters. He sneaks past the gunfight with the other Reds and Blues tailing along and acquires a M45 tactical shotgun from a rack of weapons. Next to the weapons hung in a row was a bunch of standard-issue camouflaged black and gray ODST battle armor.

"Well, it isn't Spartan armor, but it's better than nothing," Tucker hurriedly suit up and snags one of the energy swords pinned on the wall.

"_Men, I want those Reds and Blues in the nearest medical station now!_" the Reds and Blues can hear the Director command his white soldiers in the distance, "_Don't let them escape!_"

Another explosive blast erupted nearby, compelling Sarge to reply to his subordinate's prior request, "Simmons, we're being hunted, and I'll be damned if they take me hiding like a coward!"

Fully dressed and slipping on his helmet, he then pokes his head out of the locker room and hollers up at their captors above, "Hey, Director! If you expect me to come quietly, you can kiss my ass and suck my shotgun!"

Back inside the locker room, Donut complains as he dons the armor, "Yuck! What a drab color! They ought to invest in more fashion styles if they really want to attract more people to join the army."

"Yeah keyword, Donut. _Army_. This isn't a Miss Universe pageant, y'know," Grif remarks dryly.

Caboose flounders about in his suit as he attempts to fit it over his head, in turn, getting all tied up in the process. "Can—Can someone help me; I can't see," rose a muffled mumble from the headless armor.

Tucker sighs and assists his hapless teammate, "It's times like this I wish Church is around."

Sister then points out, "Hey…where _is_ Church anyway?"

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

_Whoa…What the…? Where am I…?_

Travelling fast down a long blue lit tunnel, Church could see illuminated lines of numbers and figures streaming alongside him on all sides; up, down, left, right, and at the end, a white warm glow shimmering and spinning slowly like a translucent pool of water you would sometimes see in caverns. Except, the white light was fixed sideways so that Church could see it from the top down.

_Great. I must be either dreaming or… my body is trashed and my spirit is moving on to the afterlife. Okayyyyy. Only one way to find out._

He tried to find the switch to turn his robot body online, but found that he had no hands, let alone no body to do such thing.

_Well that's it. I'm moving on. Guess the Flood got us good. Just perfect. I'm dead and gone onto—Wait a minute._

He did a double take at the numbers and figures flowing on the tunnel's walls.

_Ah, dammit. Math. I **am** in hell… Either that or Simmons's version of heaven._

Just then, a throng of overlapping voices could be heard reverberating around him like ghostly echoes. They sounded panicked, calm, assertive, commanding, kind, informative, stoic, urgent, angry, insane… They sounded like they were searching for something. Searching for someone. Searching for…

**Wh… you… Where… are you? … Al… a… Al… pha… Alllllllphaaaaa… Oh, Alpha, where are you…?**

OOOoooOOOoooOOO

**: To be continued…**


End file.
